A Scandal at Downton
by Munchkin Pumpkin
Summary: Two lonely men in the trenches of war find companionship in one another. However, things quickly turn violent, and Thomas felt trapped. Thomas now lives with the consequences of their fling, a child that neither of them wanted. Meanwhile Matthew is happily married, and Thomas has been using a corset to hide his shame. MPREG and mentions of RAPE.
1. A Corset

A corset. It seemed so silly that this was to be his last resort, after all, it was only a temporary fix, for not even the most restrictive of clothing would be able to hide his sins. History had told of the horrors of wearing such a contraption during the most vulnerable points in their lives, but if women, even today still did the same, then that served as some reassurance. At least that is the rationale Thomas fed himself before strapping himself down.

It took his breath away at first, but he relaxed into the stranglehold. He'd known that the lacing was too tight but assumed that his body would become accustomed to the tension and it'd become easier to tighten as the next few months passed.

Livery as dinner approached and became astonished by the results. His waistcoat had fit him completely – not the old tatty one that he'd found a few days ago that was even still, miles too big. It'd been a gradual journey at first, but over the last few weeks, his mid-section had ballooned. It's all been far from graceful with shocking bodily changes happening scarily frequently. He'd gotten away with the other changes because he still looked unscathed.

Thomas could actually count himself quite fortunate. He'd had very little morning sickness and his cramps went away quite easily with a hot water bottle and commonly impacted him only whilst in bed. Otherwise, he'd developed a few various aversions, smoking being his greatest grievance. Quitting had high priority once cigarettes made him lightheaded and nauseous. The aversion had since gotten better once he passed the queasy phase. Although, he still couldn't be around the smoke. Breaking the habit had been entirely more sickening than all of his sickness put together.

Thomas managed for a week, close to two using the corset. Its side effects meant permanent heartburn and breathlessness. He also became frequently lightheaded after anything strenuous. Today would be just like the others before it, he'd make sure that the table was set for breakfast, have his own, serve breakfast and carry out his chores before getting ready for dinner service. As the morning progressed, he couldn't help but notice his symptoms being exaggerated, he made a promise to fix the tightness before dinner. For now, he was far too busy.

The day passed by at record speed. Unexpected visitors arrived at Downton; Sir Lemmington and his wife, Thomas was assigned to his charge which meant that he had a whole herd of responsibilities to add to the ones he already had. Including; unpacking suitcases, preparing the dinner attire, assisting with the dressing and subsequent undressing. He'd have to iron what required it and eventually pack everything away again. Whilst he may look physically fit, he was reaching a time where he had no energy or strength for the laborious chores.

After a long day, the gong rang to signal the time for dinner dress. Thomas hurried up the staircase working up something of a sweat. He cursed almost audibly as he suddenly remembered that he'd just finished polishing a pair of shoes that ought to be brought up. He took the stairs down a little slower, he'd be no use to anybody with a broken ankle, and these creaky floorboards were dangerous at the best of times. A fall would definitely result in the loss of his child – although he still wasn't entirely convinced whether that was a negative matter.

Shoes underarm, he doubled back up and again up the staircase and across the gallery. He had just enough time to bring the shirt and jacket out of the wardrobe and hang the trousers over the dresser chair. He put on a smile as the door handle turned, "Good evening Sir."

"Barrow, right?"

"That's right, sir. Thomas if you prefer."

"Thomas, could you pick me out a pair of cufflinks?" He must have turned around too fast because as he whipped back round, his head became foggy and for a moment he lost his balance. Had it not been for Sir Lemming's lightning reflexes Thomas would have toppled to the ground. "Are you alright dear boy?" He held onto Thomas tightly until he was sure that Thomas could stand on his own.

"Thank you, Sir. Momentary lapse is all." Truthfully, he wouldn't trust himself to be able to walk in a straight line, and a sharp shooting pain began scratching beneath his skin.

"If you're sure." He eyed Thomas suspiciously. Thomas had made his mind up then and there, everything could wait, he had to loosen his corset. With great urgency, he chased himself down below deck and made a hasty direction towards his bedroom.

"There you are! You need to take these upstairs." Thomas was close to answering back but refrained seeing how red in the face Carson was. The older gentleman looked on the verge of a heart attack, so Thomas reluctantly obliged. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and flipped a loose strand of hair back into place before grabbing the tray. He hadn't looked in a mirror all day until now and quite literally looked like death. His skin had paled around blush red cheeks, dark bags formed under his eyes, and already beads of sweat collected on his forehead. After a deep breath, he grabbed the tray with both hands and began the ascent up the staircase.

Following close behind was James, who reached out a supportive hand as Thomas tumbled backwards. "Come on, these need to be eaten hot not room temperature." James heckled. Thomas rolled his eyes and continued.

All the way to the dining room where everybody now sat, Thomas had to blink away the fog to see who exactly was seated around the table. A sudden and writhe pain brought him to his knees, tray crashing to the floor and a first a stunned silence. At a moment's notice, the staff and the Lordship's family were at his aid. I'm

"Somebody fetch Dr Clarkson at once." Lady Cora yelled in James's direction. James ran to the hall phone to make the emergency call. Meanwhile, Cora blotted Thomas's perspiration with her napkin. "I don't think he's breathing properly." She leaned in closer and listened to the pattern of his breathing. In fact, it was quick and shallow.

"Perhaps we should undress him. Maybe there's something restricting the airflow." Mary cut through the panic. "Quickly before he loses consciousness." Although greatly annoying, the family would have done well to invite Cousin Isobel to dinner. Ironically it would seem that the only one in the household with any first aid knowledge was currently shivering on the floor.

"I'll do it." Mrs O'Brien chocked, doe-eyed, from the doorway. James had run free to retrieve her after calling in the emergency. She had been the only one wise enough to figure Thomas's secret, and now she hoped for some answers and this was exactly how to get them. The others backed away to make space. She pulled apart the outer layers until she reached the corset that she suspected was hiding underneath. She found it hard to contain the smug grin that crept onto her face. The others all exchanged glances of confusion. Had Thomas his wits about him he'd protest and throw a rage.

It was obvious from the sight of it, this corset was strangling the boy. His stomach appeared neatly flawless, but his natural baby weight and slightly swollen nipples hung grossly over the fabric. Mrs O'Brien hadn't quite realised that extent of the situation. She knew, from her snooping that Thomas must have been close to six months gone and should be looking exactly that. "Perhaps somebody could grab him a blanket?" Mrs O'Brien whispered hoarsely before unhinging the garment. Lady Mary handed over a throw from the sofa in the next room. She wasn't entirely sure why she cared for Thomas' dignity. A spur of the moment humility feeling sorry.

Dr Clarkson arrived just in time, he knelt beside Thomas on the floor. Empathetic, he was deeply disturbed. He noticed an obviously high temperature and paling. "Thank you for taking care of him. James, Mrs O'Brien, can you help me to a room?" The family leant Thomas a guest room, the servant stairs were too narrow to attempt a relocation effort.

"Can I ask whatever is the matter with him?" Carson asked from the corner of the room. Thomas was settling into the bed, and Dr Clarkson began an examination.

He was fairly certain that the ill effects were only temporary, but he brought out his stethoscope and began to check things over; Thomas' heart, chest and at several points across his gently arched stomach. Carson had felt too dumbfounded to repeat the question. Dr Clarkson felt the positioning of the baby and was satisfied. The baby seemed frustrated and a little too high up in the womb but that would change in time.

"He'll recover in no time. Mr Carson, I don't know why Thomas hasn't spoken to you yet, but he's in a particularly delicate condition. I was sure that Thomas would have been taking care of himself, but apparently, that is not the case."

"I can assure you that I don't have any idea as to what you mean."

"In that case, it would be in his best interest as his employer, if you were privy to this information. You see Mr Carson, I'm not sure how to say it in such a way that you'll believe me, your Mr Barrow is expecting." Dr Clarkson squinted with unease.

"Expecting what? Is he really in such dire health?"

"No, Mr Carson...he's expecting." Dr Clarkson prompted, on deaf ears, he elaborated, "in the family way."

"Are you partner to this twisted joke Mrs O'Brien? Should I relay this information to His Lordship and see what he makes of this?" Carson said sternly.

"Thomas really is with child. I would not lie to you."

"C'mon Mr Carson. You've noticed the little things, haven't you? The only reason you haven't pieced it together by now is that Thomas is a man." Mrs O'Brien watched as Carson's face sank.

"Thomas would keep his responsibilities until the moment the baby dropped if he had his way. However, I'd strongly advise the opposite."

"His Lordship will have a heart attack once I convey the news."

"At least the boy has his health, but in all honesty, mentally I'm worried. He's isolated himself and from what I can tell during our appointments, he's very unhappy. The whole ordeal has been one of suffering. I would understand an attitude of intolerance, but between you and I, the conception was not done so voluntarily."

"Ah, I see that changes things somewhat. Is there such mention as a father? A guilty party of whom to share the burden?"

"No, that much has been kept hidden even from myself. I get the feeling that it was perhaps somebody close to him or the family which would explain the sorrow and reluctance."

"I had no idea what Mr Barrow was going through, how foolish of me. Thank you, Dr Clarkson, I will ring for you personally once he wakes up."

"I would stay, but he will probably sleep through the night and I have other patients who require my attention."

"What are your intentions, Mrs O'Brien?"

"I'd like to stay with him if I could. Make sure that somebody's here when he wakes."

"Very well...Anna or Mrs Hughes will have to take care of Her Ladyship." Carson teetered on his heels and clenched his jaw before making his way to the basement begrudgingly. Thomas was a troublesome boy and whilst he managed to look past his sins, he couldn't have possibly foreseen this surprise.

"What've you gone and done now?" Mrs O'Brien lectured the sleeping man. She tutted and cleared the dust from her knees. She filled a basin with warm water from the bathroom and grabbed a hand towel. Still, on a mission to take care of Thomas, she began to clean his face and later started the fire, worrying he'd be too cold.

Meanwhile, Carson and James finished the dinner service, the family seemed too startled to eat much more but dinner went on, nonetheless. Tea was served in the library where it seemed the topic of conversation was still Thomas. Naturally, they'd be curious. When Carson was caught off guard bringing in the tea tray, Lady Mary took the opportunity to ask of an outcome.

"Mr Barrow, is he alright?" She asked.

Carson coughed, he hadn't quite enough time to plan what he'd say to the family, "He's quite alright My Lady. Dr Clarkson will stop by in the morning but for now, he's sleeping."

"What an awful ordeal. Does Dr Clarkson have any idea what was wrong with him, and perhaps why he was wearing what he was." Lady Cora added.

"I think we should know a little more in the morning. If now is an appropriate time, might I have a word, Your Lordship?"

"You may." The two left the library and stood in the great hall. Carson briefly scanned the surroundings to make sure they were free from prying ears. The Earl looked at him sceptically, "what could possibly require such a high level of security? Is Thomas really okay?"

"It wasn't a lie, as it stands Thomas is healthy. It doesn't end quite there Your Lordship, according to Dr Clarkson, Thomas is with child." Carson answered awkwardly but honestly. His Lordship frowned and crooked his neck in a plausible manner. Carson seemingly avoided eye contact.

"I beg your pardon! You aren't the comedian anymore Carson, it does far from suit you."

"I shared the same reaction. Dr Clarkson has been treating him for a number of months now." Carson didn't quite want to believe that there hid a scandal right under his nose for the better part of half a year. He prided himself on being the all-knowing watcher, so this was somewhat embarrassing.

"Good Lord. Are you serious? Do we have any idea how it happened?"

"Dr Clarkson was sure the child was not mutually conceived." Carson had otherwise noticed a particularly dark period a few months ago. Thomas spoke to nobody and always appeared tired. Thomas often had angsty periods but always came through unscathed. They were usually linked to his sinful lifestyle, so Carson kept to his own business.

"This story keeps getting more and more tragic by the word. I suppose he was wearing the corset to hide his secret from the rest of us. Heavens, what he must have been going through, and in silence. How long has it been?" That statement made Carson feel particularly uncomfortable. Meanwhile, His Lordship blamed the inhibition to get to know Thomas better.

"He hasn't far to go." Carson thought back to his startling discovery, Thomas' stomach being so profound and obvious.

"Blimey." A length silence ensured before His Lordship spoke again, "I should return, thank you for telling me all of this Carson. Can you please let me know when Thomas has awoken, I'd very much like to speak with him?"

"If you wish, My Lord."


	2. And Now Everybody Knows

Thomas slept for a solid uninterrupted 13 hours. As he came around, his eyes studied the room, this wasn't his quarters. There were rays of natural light streaming across the bedspread, soft pillows under his head and a thick duvet that was tucked in at his sides. Once things became a little less foggy, he realized that he wasn't in a strange place, but rather a guest bedroom within Downton. He struggled to prompt himself into a position half-sitting. He pulled the blanket over his stomach self-consciously.

She eyed his mid-section, "Don't you think for one minute that it's doing anything."

"How long had you known then?" Thomas replied bitterly, trying to maintain an unaffected smile.

"For a while." Mrs O'Brien responded cryptically. "Feeling better?" Thomas looked away, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing his clenched jaw. "You really caused a scene, right in the middle of dinner."

"As if I already don't resent myself, there's no need to rub it in."

"I thought you'd like to know that Carson was told by Dr Clarkson, so naturally His Lordship will know by now." It took every inch of professionalism not to laugh maniacally, practically swimming in his discontent.

"Isn't that spectacular. Looks like I'll be out of a job soon enough." It was only a matter of time. Thomas knew that he wouldn't be wanted in the house once they all found out. He'd planned to quit once it became too hard to hide, but apparently, he loved Downton and his position far too much. Practically, the default plan was to be inevitably fired.

"Mrs Hughes still helps that hussy and her baby." She added, so casually unveiling a secret she had no right to mention.

"I am not anybody's burden."

"Have you looked into a mirror lately? You really think anybody will take you in looking like that?"

"You're enjoying this far too much. Don't forget that I may be pregnant but am no invalid. I'm sure Her Ladyship would love to hear some of my stories." He grinned proudly.

"You wouldn't dare."

"What wouldn't you, Mrs O'Brien?" Carson appeared, "I take it that you're feeling better. I would have liked to have been informed about your current state by yourself, but no matter. His Lordship has been told, and he wishes to speak with you."

"That can't be good." Thomas rolled his eyes. It would be one thing to be called into Carson's office and be served with a far from glowing reference, but for His Lordship to visit whilst still tied to his sickbed was entirely different.

Carson paid the family a visit during breakfast to inform them that Thomas had woken up and was going to be just fine. It would seem that His Lordship had neglected to tell the rest of the family, even his own wife, for the moment. That is, until he heard from Dr Clarkson directly, and came up with a viable solution that worked for everyone.

"I do wish you'd tell us what's going on, Robert." Cora pouted from above her cup of tea. Robert glanced over and gave her a look which told her, 'not now', which she was hardly used to. She frowned at him in response.

Thomas had decided that he'd overgrown his welcome and struggled to get out of bed. His body felt bruised and not from his fall, but rather abused and neglected. Being pregnant was little help, already heavy on his feet, there was a fair bit more of him to manoeuvre. Perhaps a pitiful sight to anybody who should walk in. He reached for his dressing gown that Mrs O'Brien bought up, which is when the door knocked from the other side.

"There was no need for you to get up, I'd dare say that you would do better resting a while longer."

"Thank you for your concern, My Lord, but I've abused your kindness."

"Nonsense. Carson has informed me of your current situation, can you confirm the case?"

"I cannot deny it, My Lord. I haven't a clue to what you've been told, so I cannot confirm everything."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, the first and most important instance looks to my own eyes to be true. Carson's story hadn't ended there, he tells me that this," His Lordship gestures openly with his hands to Thomas' middle, "was not of your choosing?"

"Dr Clarkson has left little to fill in myself it seems."

"So, it's all true?"

"Unfortunately, so."

"I feel somewhat personally responsible, and I'm not sure why."

"I should have been able to handle myself; I am a man after all." In the beginning, Thomas was overwhelmed by emotion. Sure, he was angry and resentful, but most especially – embarrassed. He'd been overpowered by somebody he knew and trusted. He fought and fought until he had eventually given in and allowed the abuse. Threats to his social life, his job, and soon his life.

"If it remains a promise of absolute secrecy, would you confine in my as to whom left you this way?"

"By speaking aloud Sir, I'm afraid that it'll bring back what I've only gotten past."

"Whenever the burden becomes too heavy to bear, please let me know."

"I have to ask, my job-"

"Please continue with your duties. I will speak with Carson about a reduced routine. I hope that you can confide in your fellow man downstairs with your secret. You will be relying on them for support in the coming months."

"Thank you for the advice and thank you for your hospitality."

"I won't hear another word. Rest for as long as you can, and then some. I would expect that Carson is eager to throw you back on the horse."

Thomas slipped away to the window, he needed something to watch outside to distract his mind from replaying his life's darkest days. It'd been days, maybe a week or two since the last time he'd retreated to the cloudy parts of his mind, a good streak considering that he lived with the consequences. A hand drifted to his stomach above the spot where he could feel the small kicks of his growing child.

A year earlier~~~~

Thomas loved to pretend that he was strong, cold, and invisible. In the trenches and at the forefront of the war, collecting bodies and narrowly dodging bullets, each move over the top made him want to cry and grovel to be sent back home. The war was brutal and here he knew nobody, Thomas felt more alone these days than ever before. That was until one day, through the shelling and his own panic, he heard a familiar voice call out to him.

"Barrow?" Thomas focused through his daze to make out the officer who'd just grabbed his sleeve. "It is Barrow isn't it?" The voice prompted. A thousand men ran through these muddy pits, but Thomas knew this one, who seemed to also remember him.

"Master Crawley?" Hidden under the helmet was the softest blonde hair he'd ever seen, and staring directly into his own, unmistakably mesmerizing blue eyes. Thomas wouldn't have thought that a rich chap would have been sent to the front. In all honesty, it was selfish to be grateful for a friendly face. Especially this one, that he'd often thought about during perilous times.

Both men were, unbeknownst to themselves smiling brightly. It began just as innocently. That same night Thomas shared some coffee over a small fire and the two of them relieved the old days for hours on end.

On the next rotation of men, Thomas went to the base to bathe and retrieve a set of clean uniforms. The last person he'd expected to see was, in fact, the very person that he wanted to see the most. Which is why he was surprised to see Matthew away from the front. "I've been looking for you, it would appear that you are a very hard man to trace. I didn't expect to see you here." Instead of showering with the other men, Thomas had found an executive bathroom.

"Well, a man has certain standards," Thomas replied casually. "I would rather boil the water myself and enjoy the privacy. Which brings me to ask, what are you doing in here?"

"I think you'll find that I'm actually allowed to be here." Matthew reached for the towel that Thomas had hung, "if you're finished, then there's something I'd love to run by you." Thomas accepted the towel and Matthew turned to give Thomas privacy.

He could blame himself for how the next few months would pan out. See, instead of drying himself and putting on a fresh set of underwear, he dropped the towel and edged closer to Matthew. It was wrong to be so bold, but the chemistry between them had flourished over the last few days and he had assumed that, since their almost kiss the night before, that Matthew would reciprocate.

Matthew turned around, having waited long enough. Nose to nose with a dripping Thomas, he coughed awkwardly, "Barrow, are you sure that this-" Thomas held Matthew's cheek and leaned in slowly when Matthew didn't turn away like last time, and Thomas took that as an invitation. He kissed Matthew softly, until Matthew turned up the heat, pouring passion into their embrace. A kiss had been one thing, but Thomas hadn't expected any more to come of it yet didn't reject Matthew stroking his excited member.

Was it loneliness, attraction, or anything in between that pulled them together? Neither knew. Neither tried to attach labels or try to explain why things took off. Instead, the two enjoyed a heated night together. Matthew's news to bring Thomas on a tour of the country, trying to recruit more young men, only prolonged their frivolity.

Their affair went on for a number of months before things turned sour. Matthew had reverted from the soft lover Thomas was used to and turned violent. Something rather unpleasant occurred at Downton and Matthew reverted all of his anger into their relationship and into Thomas.

"You've been avoiding me this evening," Matthew yelled. "Don't lie to me, you're bored of me now. I'm not good enough for a servant like you. That's it, isn't it?" Thomas had, had enough. He'd been bullied by Matthew for a few weeks and he'd given up on arguing back.

Instead, Thomas apologized, "That's not how it is! I'm sorry. I haven't been feeling too good is all." He pleaded.

"Good, that's a relief. You see, I thought you loved me, how silly." Thomas was settling into the emotional blackmail. "Come here." Matthew opened his arms, waiting for Thomas to nestle in as he expected.

"I told you that I'm not feeling well." Thomas felt the pricks of tears well in his eyes. Matthew hadn't liked being rejected, actually, he hates it. Thomas regretted saying anything almost instantly after. Matthew interlocked the fingers of his right hand with Thomas' left and twisted Thomas' arm painfully behind his back.

"You make me sick because you're a dirty homosexual," Matthew whispered into Thomas' ear. Thomas ceased to stand up for himself. There had been once at the very beginning when Thomas had punched Matthew for this type of behaviour. He'd made his life an awful mess. Matthew sent Thomas to the front every day, most days running through the mud until early hours the next. He'd threatened to write home and expose Thomas for being gay. He'd likely never work again after that. It became too easy to give in.

This time was no different. He had lifeless sex with Matthew and returned to his bunk. The walk back gave him time to think, and through the tears, he had a magical epiphany. His way out had been staring at him in the face the entire time. Discharge. If he were to be sent home, then he would be free from Matthew until the war would end. It hadn't taken long to come up with a plan. After all, he'd seen the cries of desperation from the others in either trench.

It took strength and determination, but he lit his lighter and held it high above his head. Sure enough, a German soldier keeping watch had spotted the light and aimed to shoot it out of contention. The bullet pierced his hand, and whilst being overwhelmed with agony, he couldn't have been more thankful.

He was sent home. He was sent back to safety. That was until Matthew returned every so often to visit. Whilst the physical violence stopped, Matthew was still manipulating and scheming. Thomas had no choice but to sustain their relationship on Matthew's visits. What would have been the last visit before Matthew's discharge, had been familiar to the humiliation that he'd fled war to escape.

Thomas had believed Matthew when he talked of change, having learned some kind of lesson from being alone and after worrying about Thomas' life after the injury. These promises made Matthew likewise to his previous loving self.

Tonight, was to be the lasting imprint; where Matthew would help create the life still growing within Thomas.

The family had gone to bed, and Thomas stupidly went up to Matthew's room to where he knew things would end bloody and soul-destroying. Thomas knocked on the door softly, preying not to be heard. Of course, he wasn't lucky enough for that. Matthew grabbed Thomas by the chest, pulling at some hair underneath his pajamas. Thomas hadn't any time to react before he was slammed into the wall, his head bouncing on the solid surface below. Matthew suffocated Thomas under a stampede of kisses. Thomas turned his head briefly to catch his breath. Matthew pulled Thomas by his hair back into the embrace.

Thomas pushed Matthew away, struggling to breathe. Matthew stabilised and realigned his jaw, Thomas found fear in the silence and tried to make a break for it. Chances were, Matthew wouldn't chase him through the Abbey. Matthew slammed the door the five inches that Thomas had managed to pry it open.

Thomas was thrown down onto the bedside table, splitting his right eyebrow. "I'm sorry that I had to do that. You know how I behave when I'm angry. Why you tempt me, is your own fate." Somehow Thomas became afraid for his life.

"You're right, Matthew. I don't know what I was thinking." Thomas begged, blood trickling down his face.

"Master Crawley while we're at home, don't you dare call me Matthew." He snarled. "Don't make me hurt you again. I'm leaving again in the morning; you can at least pretend to love me for one night longer." Matthew threw his dressing gown onto the floor and stripped off. Thomas did the same, shivering with fright.

Matthew hadn't bothered to spend enough time preparing Thomas for his entry, so Thomas cried out the entire way through. Matthew attempted to gag the man by covering his mouth and at a later stage by choking him. Thomas left the room violated and in agony. He would recover like usual but sluggishly returned to his own room, legs buckling several times on the way other. Once in his own bed, he cried himself to sleep.

It wasn't clear as to why, after countless other moments of intimacy, this one night resulted in something more. It wasn't until a few weeks later that he was told such news and having it broadly coincide with Matthew being gravely injured in the war, he kept himself to himself. He'd dare to visit, now that he was truly free. Matthew's brush with death left him paralysed below the waist and consequently incompetent. Morbidity and shame meant that Matthew hadn't sought Thomas out, and he had very little planned to.

One thing after another, William had died. Thomas became self-destructive, alienating himself. He struggled with guilt, depression, despair, and for a while crossed paths with suicidal tendencies. The only thing that kept him going, turned out to be the job he undeniably loved and soon, the child he was carrying.

All of that seemed to be behind him now, except for the odd occasion such as now. When he was sad, as though a rainbow through the rain, his child pounded for attention. A reassuring gesture to remind him that there was more in life to live for.

Thomas smiled as yet again the baby had saved him from a dark moment.

"You are big, look at you." Mrs O'Brien barged in with a breakfast tray, Mrs Patmore had scrambled him some eggs, and made a fresh pot of tea, among a whole tray full.

"Still a way to go." Thomas drew the dressing gown. Mrs O'Brien's staring was becoming uncomfortable.

"You're sure that there aren't two or three of them in there." She teased.

"Dr Clarkson would have told me if there were." Truthfully, Thomas was growing worried. He had considered himself to be fairly filled out, not that he had seen many other pregnant women before. Dr Clarkson dismissed his worry about multiple births and promised that he was heavier simply because he was a man. The presence of a bump on a man's middle was bound to catch the eye and feel alien, but his weight gain, by comparison, was perfectly normal.

"Or so you'd hope." She allowed Thomas the decency to get comfortably back into bed before giving him his breakfast. It was easier to be nice to Thomas when the boy was unconscious, that way she didn't have to pretend that she couldn't care. Now that he was awake, she'd snapped back to her usually abrasive self.

Downstairs, Carson had confided in Mrs Hughes. The predicament he faced was far beyond his expertise, so he asked for help from his female counterpart. As somebody entirely tolerant of Thomas' lifestyle, even she was shocked. "You've really got a pickle on your hands." Her entire adulthood was spent in this house and from experience, maids who fell pregnant -however rare- usually left the house. Married maids would leave before they were due. Even the latter occurred as a single event, not enough to warrant the title of expert.

"I can't possibly imagine why His Lordship has extended such tolerance, I for sure would not have." Carson sighed.

"He must have his reasons. Now, what are you going to do? If he's really as far along as Dr Clarkson says he is, then you should put something into place before Thomas returns to work."

"I suppose I could have him doing the light work, buffing the shoes, mending clothes, polishing the silver. Things below ground. I would not stand for the family's reputation being tarnished by this."

"Then it's sorted. Give the boy one more day and start him from the morning." Mrs Hughes got up from her chair, "Carson, if Thomas really has gone through such torment, I'm sure that he would appreciate your forgiveness."

Carson rolled his eyes right round to the back of his head. Mrs Hughes was right, and he didn't care to admit it. Soon after she left the room, Carson called for the doctor. Now that he was considerably calmer, he had a list of questions to ask Dr Clarkson on his visit. The good doctor was finishing his morning rounds and coming straight to the house.

Carson escorted Dr Clarkson up to the room where Thomas was staying but came across a rather unsettling scene. It would seem that Thomas was throwing up the little breakfast he'd eaten so far this morning. He'd been quite grateful for the bucket placed next to his bed, as he didn't think he'd have made it to the bathroom.

"Good morning Thomas." Dr Clarkson greeted from the foot of the bed. Carson disturbed found it easier to wait outside for now. "Are you quite alright?" Thomas gave a shaky thumbs up. It took a moment for the vomiting to stop but it did sure enough. Thomas threw his head back into his pillow and sighed.

"Won't miss that." He rubbed his eyes, getting rid of the tears and his week cheeks in the process. Dr Clarkson removed the bucket and sat on the edge of the bed. "You don't need to tell me just how disappointed you are." Thomas interrupted.

"You told me that the family had been informed and that you were taking it easy as it was."

"Didn't have to, had that thing." Thomas shamefully looked over at the corset that hung over the arm of the beside chair.

"Short-term, you would have had to tell somebody sooner or later, you couldn't have hidden a child away in such close quarters." He wouldn't have put it past Thomas to try. "Never mind that now. What's been done cannot be undone. Let's take a look at you." Dr Clarkson pulled the duvet away and lifted Thomas' shirt. He pushed and prodded around his stomach, "any pains or odd feelings?"

"Not at all, I probably don't deserve my health." Guilt-ridden for his own stupidity, he couldn't quite believe in his good fortune, for it'd never blessed him before.

"Your body has been under considerable stress which isn't good for you baby." Dr Clarkson took to his stethoscope, checking the heartbeat and other internal functions. "The baby is indeed active today."

"Don't I bloody know it," Thomas hadn't really felt the baby kick for days. It concerned him but should he stress about every little sensation and new experience, he'd never sleep. To feel the baby active was certainly a relief. "I'd expect the family to know by tomorrow, so that'll be going."

"I'm relieved to hear you say so. From now, I only want you to wear clothes that truly fit. Under my professional opinion, I wouldn't even condone maternity corsets. The pregnant body goes through many changes and to restrict the natural processes in any way would be dangerous. In a way, I'd like for you to take this as a warning."

"I feel so stupid." Thomas cried, he hid his eyes under one hand and sobbed lightly.

"No, no you're not, it's the doctors and retailers who endorse the practice who are." He handed over his handkerchief. "Have you given any more thought to my proposition?"

Flashback~~\\\\\

Thomas slipped off of the examination table, he'd stopped by for a check-up with Dr Clarkson. Having been given a clean bill of health and reassurance that everything was on-track he was happy to button up his trousers. Getting his shoes back on was beginning to become a task, bending in such a way sent blood pulsing to his head. He groaned sitting up.

From the sink, the Doctor asked, "Thomas, if you'll entertain the thought, can I run something by you?" Dr Clarkson dried his hands.

"Go ahead Doc, suppose you've done enough for me." Thomas smiled.

"As I've already told you, the only documentation of male pregnancy has detailed particularly long and ghastly childbirth. Perhaps you might be interested in a cesarean section. It's a big operation but I want you to be aware of the options available to you."

"What's the odds I'd survive this little surgery of yours?" He hadn't meant for it to sound sarcastic, having seen men on the front go through emergency surgery – being ripped open and sewn up again – not many of them lived. His comment wasn't a reflection of how little he trusted Dr Clarkson, just his skepticism of medicine.

"Very high, if I do say so myself. You're a healthy young man, and our hospital is well equipped. Very few women truly believe in the safety of the operation, so it would be wonderful to raise awareness. Of course, I will support whatever decision you arrive at, and deliver the baby at your wishes." He couldn't guarantee complete safety, no doctor could. Women died from sepsis, blood clotting and blood loss having undergone such an operation. Although, Dr Clarkson had high expectations for success.

"That would risk others knowing of the baby's unnatural conception, would it not?" So far, only Dr Clarkson knew about the baby, but the more people who were around him created a great risk that his quite normal pregnancy would be scandalous.

"The knowledge would stay within my medical team; news of the success would be anonymous." It came out close to a beg.

"You've certainly given me a lot to think about." That was Thomas's polite way of avoiding the word 'no', especially since he owed Dr Clarkson a lot.

"By all means. I'll expect to see you again in a month. Please don't forget my advice, please take things lightly, you will start to feel the effects of your last trimester pretty soon." Thomas wasn't ready to admit defeat just yet. The last few weeks had him feeling more like himself than he had done in months. He had a weird lick of energy and his skin stopped looking so pale. If it weren't for his pudgy middle and the occasional half-attempted kicks, he wouldn't even know that he was expecting.

"That, not particularly. Let's just say that I've been ignoring the inevitable." Quite the understatement from the one who suffocated himself to exhaustion. He winced slightly as the baby kicked his bladder and now, he needed to use the bathroom.

"Yes, I can see that. Tell me, now that the family know, will you promise to look after yourself better? Perhaps you can begin to prepare yourself, as I'm guessing you don't have anything for the child yet?"

"A few things that I've seen in shop windows, nothing more than a basket full." Under his bed sat a small wicker hamper, it was pathetically empty. All he'd managed to collect was a plain white cotton gown and a pair of knitted socks. Any attempts at shopping would be uncomfortable and he was very obviously out of place.

"I have to say, new-born babies don't fare well in drawers."

"I did just fine." Thomas grew up in a typical overpopulated family, it hadn't been just him that slept in a blanketed drawer, but his other siblings too. It was far from unusual.

"Now, I can't argue with that." The two chuckled, "Come down to the hospital in a few days for a full appointment."

"You have my word." If it meant anything, Thomas vowed to be more truthful. Starting tomorrow, he was going to work on himself.


	3. An Irrefutable Deal

The day went on like all others, one hand short had begun to stress Carson out but it wasn't something that he couldn't cope with. Downstairs was full of chatter, but nobody actually had any idea as to what was going on. Carson had intended to keep it that way, asking Mrs O'Brien to refrain from telling anybody about anything. Although, he knew that he wouldn't be able to rely upon the promise. There was little to guarantee that Mrs O'Brien would keep any of this a secret.

Which was exactly on the money. Mrs O'Brien had been tending to Lady Cora, getting her ready for the evening meal when Her Ladyship began to ask questions, "all of you must be so worried about Thomas, Anna told me that you stayed with him that night. I'm sure he was grateful for that." Lady Cora made eye contact through the dressing table mirror.  
"Oh yes, he was M' Lady." She replied, sliding pins into Lady Cora's curls.

"Do you know what happened exactly? I have a feeling that Robert is in the know but he's remaining quiet about the whole thing." Lady Cora often relied on Mrs O'Brien for her gossip updates, since Carson was too prudish and Robert too overprotective, often meant she was the last to know something even in her own home.

"You know that I don't like to tell tales, M' Lady. It's not my secret to tell." That had only made Cora more enticed, which had been Mrs O'Brien's intention, to coaxes her into spilling the tea. "There's a secret! You have to tell O'Brien, especially now." She pleaded.

"I will say this M' Lady, it's set to change Thomas's life forever." Mrs O'Brien hummed inconspicuously. Lady Cora couldn't help but gasp in response.

"That big?" She stropped frustrated, shaking off her silk dressing gown onto the bed. Mrs O'Brien picked up after the Lady of the house.

O'Brien handed Lady Cora a clean pair of stockings, "Literally, M' Lady." Mrs O'Brien grinned smugly as Lady Cora had her head down looping her feet through the socks.

"Robert knows, doesn't he? That's why he went to visit Thomas this morning. What use is a husband who doesn't give me what I want?" Lady Cora smiled jokingly.

"Now that you mention it, Dr Clarkson and His Lordship did leave the room for a while. I had assumed that the two had a private business, but now that I think about it, it would make sense for His Lordship to be talking about Thomas." She lied, stirring the pot. It was her specialty, other than sewing and hairdressing, she was a pro at spreading gossip. If there were awards for how fast information spread in this house or around town, then she would be the titleholder.

"Thank you, O'Brien, I'll take it from here." Lady Cora had a look of determination about her. The two exchanged a mutual parting glance. Mrs O'Brien counted this as another victory.  
Once the coast was clear, she shuffled down the corridor wrapped in her dinner coat. She eventually reached her husband's dressing room and lightly tapped on the door. His Lordship straightened out his jacket before answering the door. He was moments away from heading to dinner and so was all alone, fortunately for Lady Cora.

"On God's Earth woman, what do you think you're doing?" He muffled his discontent, surprised that his wife would be even this bold. "What should anybody think if they saw you sneaking in here like this?"

"I've come for answers." She dropped down to the bed in protest. She was not leaving until she heard exactly what she came for, so why not make herself comfortable?

"If this is about Thomas again, he's perfectly fine." Lady Cora glared at him, dissatisfied. "What would you like to hear? That the boy is dying? Which he isn't by the way, heavens forbid." Her silence was grating him. "You'll be late for dinner." He nudged. When his wife refused to budge he sighed. Perhaps it was the American blood in her veins that made her the most stubborn woman to grace this Earth.

"I know that you've spoken with Dr Clarkson." She piped up, refusing to reveal her source.

"O'Brien..." he cursed under his breath, "that is most definitely not true."

"I know that you know. I also know that the thing you are hiding from me is going to change Thomas's life, so you might as well tell me if it's something I'll find out naturally." She pouted. Robert huffed heavily before throwing himself on the empty space on the bed next to her.

It was increasingly clear that Cora was not going to give up regardless of how many times he tried to restore her faith. "Fine, but you must promise never to tell the girls." She smiled cheekily, loving that she had her own way. "It may sound like an outright lie, but please believe that I wouldn't make this up."

"You're scaring me." She glared. Lady Cora hadn't prepared for news of such magnitude, in fact she had greatly thought that O'Brien had been exaggerating, like usual. However, Robert's reluctance to talk with her, had her begin to believe the contrary.

"I suppose that there's something at the heart of the story which you need to know first. Thomas is one of those men who aren't attracted to women." Lady Cora rolled her eyes and tutted.

She bit her lip and looked up at him with admiration, her husband was incredibly naive. "Oh Robert, I've known that since we first met him." She playfully slapped Robert's hand. "I thought it was obvious." She added.

"Of course, you did," he emphasized, hinting at her more liberal American heritage. "Thomas, the poor fellow, was the victim of an assault. That tragic incident has left the boy in a delicate state,"  
Lady Cora interrupted, "Poor thing. I couldn't imagine what that's like." Whilst the explicit words were not stated, she knew from the refrain exactly what had happened to Thomas in one form or another. The area they lived, and the startling lack of social change still meant that homosexuals faced large stigma. It often meant that individuals faced prison, violence, and much more. However, they still faced the same troubles as heterosexual couples, sexual abuse being a leading strife.

"Please, let me finish. Thomas is pregnant, a mouthful to say out loud, but his attacker left behind something far worse than a physical scar. I hope that you feel better for knowing, if you weren't so stubborn, I could have protected you from such a wretched situation."

"I feel sorry for the boy, I do, but I don't see what that has to do with us. He can't raise a child in the house and still perform his duties. Surely you know that?" An awful thing to have to say, but Lady Cora picked her moments. "Why are you doing him any favors?"

"That's just it...I feel personally responsible..." He sunk into himself.

"Robert?" She arched her voice curiously.

"Oh please," He spat. "I invited the assailant into our home and when I saw something untoward, I kept to myself like a coward." His mind ran back to a night that he'd put his best efforts into forgetting.

Robert had heard a loud thud in the silence of the night. It echoed through the house. Perhaps it sounded louder as he'd been struggling to sleep and needed a reason to get out of bed. He'd investigate and slip down to the library for a drink. It was probably nothing, just something falling from a high shelf or blown over by the wind through a forgotten window.

He tucked his feet into his slippers and suited in his dressing gown. He contemplated taking the poker from the fireplace with him for a line of defense but scoffed thinking himself to be fretting over nothing. As he got closer to the sound of the crash, he began to hear whimpering and stifled yelping. The sound became even clearer when he approached Matthew's room. For a moment he stood outside of the door, disgusted by the prospect that his heir was partaking in pre-marital sex, or being unfaithful to sweet Lavinia. Although, he wasn't the lad's father and ultimately second-guessed his own authority. He had unknowingly been lingering around the door long enough for the bed frame to cease squeaking.

Without time to run somewhere unseen, he hid behind a door on the opposite side of the corridor. Curiosity had him leave a gap in the door to see exactly who came out. In fact, he barely believed what his own eyes had witnessed. It wasn't Lavinia or one of the maids, it was Thomas. It wasn't just Thomas, it was Thomas with dried blood traced down his cheek, it was Thomas but shivering, it was Thomas but crying desperately. If he hadn't heard anything behind the door to prove otherwise, he'd have guessed that the two had engaged in a punch-up.

Matthew came out seconds later to use the bathroom, an innocent act which rid Robert of any deniability. If Robert hadn't just seen Matthew, he'd have persuaded himself with every fiber of his being that Matthew was too nice to commit such an act. He couldn't look any longer, as soon as he was able to slip back to his bedroom he did. He undressed and took comfort under the duvet, kept warm by his loving wife. He lay, staring at the ceiling the entire night.

When he saw Thomas at breakfast the next morning, a bandage over much of his face and grey bags under bloodshot eyes, his heart dropped into his stomach. Guilt danced around him for days before he managed to eat something and sleep the night through. He hadn't spoken to Thomas about what he had seen or evicted Matthew from the family. In truth, he was far too much a coward to do anything and hated himself ever since.

"Oh Robert, I wish you'd have said something before." Cora stroked his arm and rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm your wife, you can talk to me about anything, you know that." She comforted.

"I was ashamed. I let my own greed cloud my judgement." Despite knowing of the atrocities that occurred under his roof, he still invited Matthew back. For Thomas to serve him at the dinner table as though nothing had happened. For the sake of Downton, the family, and its reputation, he may have enabled the abuse. After Thomas recovered from his injuries, he was sure that Matthew had sorted his behaviour and there hadn't been another night with any bumps in the dark.

"I give you my full support, whatever you think is best." She clasped her husband's hand tightly.

"I was hoping to give Thomas a helpful hand, let the child be raised in the nursery?" Robert suggested.

"With Sibby?" She paused for a moment, evaluating the situation. Who was she to turn down a parent in need, "That's a wonderful idea. It's the least we could do." She agreed. If the child was an illegitimate heir, then it should be treated like one of the family. Besides, she absolutely loved having children in the house.

"I'm glad you think so. I'll tell him about our plans after dinner." Robert checked himself in the mirror once more, "speaking of." He gave her a prompting stare.  
"I'll be a little late down." She apologised before taking her to leave.

Matthew around their dinner table this evening had been dreadfully awkward. Lady Cora kept herself to herself the best she could but was caught out a few times staring at Matthew. It was perhaps the uncomfortable silences that made Matthew compelled to start a conversation, "I heard that your Footman, Thomas took a turn last night. I trust he's doing better."

"Yes, he's doing just fine. Dr Clarkson has declared that he be put on reduced duty for the next few weeks until he's back in tip-top shape." Robert shared over the table. For most, it was pleasant news to hear.

"I hadn't realized that it was all so serious. I do hope that he gets better soon." Lady Edith pleaded.

"It's nothing for you to concern yourself with." Robert dispelled, taking a sip of wine.

"What happened exactly?" Matthew asked brazenly.

"It's hardly a conversation to be had over dinner. Let us all just enjoy our meal." After such a comment, the table fell quiet. Not much was spoken the entire dinner through. The tension kept everybody mute, barely looking up from their plates. Instead, Robert spent dinner nudging his wife under the table, to remind her of her manners.

After dinner, His Lordship excused himself from tea and went straight to see Thomas. To his surprise, the young man was dressed and out of bed. Had he chosen a moment even a little later, he'd have missed Thomas entirely. "Feeling better, Barrow?" He asked, knocking on the open door.

"Much better M' Lord. Once again, thank you." He replied sheepishly.

"I'm glad to hear it. I came to speak with you about your future here at the house," Thomas' heart sank, "no need to look so glum. I have spoken with Carson and he's agreed to some kind of routine for you. I'm sure that it won't be around the house, as I'm sure you'll understand."

"Of course, M' Lord." Even without being explicitly told not to, he would rather not show his face in front of the family, given that he still relished in a large amount of embarrassment. A scene like that is not going to be forgotten any time soon.

He need not waste any time before the man in front of him melted from anxiety, "After the child is born, I'd like for you to consider leaving the baby with the nanny."

"I couldn't ask that of you," His Lordship interrupted.

"Which is why I'm insisting. You would have contact time during the day, and if you so wish, you can take custody of a night-time in a separate room on the top floor. I baby would surely disrupt the others if you remained downstairs." He hadn't given the plan much thought, he would have done the same for any of his children had they been forced into such a situation.

"If I may speak freely?" His Lordship nodded, "Why are you helping me? I've brought this on your house." Nobody had ever been so nice to him, not that he'd given anybody reason to. In the past few years, he's stolen and lied, bullied, and framed, all for his own selfish motives. Lord Grantham knew about most of these wrongdoings which is why he was so curious. There was no reason for him to remain in the house, none at all.

"I believe that you're a good man, whose been dealt an awful hand. I am giving you a chance and some compassion. You do not deserve to lose your job and your home." Thomas seemed satisfied with the response, which was fortunate. The last thing Robert wanted to do was talk about what he'd seen which might shame the boy or worse, force him to leave. Had the circumstances been entirely different, Thomas would have been handed his notice, but guilt had saved him.

"It's a great kindness, Your Lordship. I hope to be able to repay you someday." He wasn't sure how he'd defend such a promise, having very little, but his pride would push for it. For he was in Lord Grantham's debt.


	4. Not Everybody is Happy About it

Thomas hadn't left the room all day, and now it was time to bite the bullet and head back downstairs. No doubt everyone was waiting on his return, the floorboards were likely rattling with gossip. Spread by none-other than Mrs O'Brien herself. The Lady's Maid had planted seeds and spoke in riddles to keep the bait dangling. It was around nine that Thomas braved the path down the stairs. He checked his path every few seconds to be sure that he wasn't spotted by a member of the family. In front of his stomach, he held balled up pyjamas to mask the bump should anyone did come around any corners.

He held the bannister with one hand as he crept down the spiralling staircase. Already he could hear laughter and merriment from the others who appeared to be fairly content for whatever reason. It seemed a shame to ruin their fun, by bringing them such news, but it was impossible to keep hidden any longer.

Thomas apprehensively walked through the hall and into the dining room where he stood in the doorway silently for a minute or two before anybody took notice. "Oh look, it's Thomas." Daisy broke away from James, having been dancing in his arms. His secret hadn't been obvious just yet, and the anticipation was killing him. "Mrs O'Brien told us you were ill."

"Looks perfectly fine to me!" Mrs Patmore rolled her eyes.

"I'm not ill for starters," He delayed, not sure if he could muster the courage for such an announcement.

"Then whatever's the matter? We were all really worried about you, you know." Anna chipped in. Thomas rightfully believed that Anna was concerned for his health, the others – he should be so lucky.

"Well," he lost the bundle, dumping it on a nearby counter. He stood up straight and bashfully waited for the gasp that would hopefully fill the gap in his explanation. Few people said anything, instead, Mrs Patmore inhaled sharply with her hand covering her mouth, and the other's eyes danced between one another in confusion.

"Are you going to tell us or what?" Daisy spoke, rather densely.

"Heavens, you're, not are you?" Mrs Patmore asked. Thomas was hardly surprised by the reaction; he would have been shocked should they all have erupted with songs of congratulations and joy. However, the lack of even a sympathetic vote destroyed his confidence. The small smile he'd managed to keep, just slipped away.

"What? I don't understand." Daisy seemed to be the only one in the room who couldn't arrive at the answer. Nobody wanted to say it out loud out of shock from the situation.

"Thomas, my office, now." Carson pulled Thomas away from the scene, leaving behind sorrowed expressions. Mrs Patmore pulled Daisy aside and kept her busy. She didn't quite know what to say to the youngling, but she would break the news eventually. Carson sat behind his desk and gestured for Thomas to also take a seat, seeing at the boy looked apprehensive. "That was nicely handled." Carson put sarcastically.

"They had to find out sometime." He shrugged. He played it off well, but he actually felt pretty emotional having just done the unthinkable.

"Mnn. Whatever his reasons, Lord Grantham has decided to let you stay at the house. Upon his request, I've made significant changes to your position and of course, you will have different responsibilities. If you are fit and able tomorrow, I would like you to return to work."

"I do believe I can. What would you have me do?" Thomas knew it would he remedial, unimportant work.

"Odd jobs, this and that. You will be removed from your footman duties effective immediately. Unless called for, you will not go upstairs under any circumstances."

"I suppose that you should know, I'll be moving elsewhere after the baby's born. Lord Grantham said I could live on the top floor, and that the nanny would look after it while I work." Carson frowned, livid. Thomas couldn't sympathise, seeing as he was the fortunate party in this debate.

"How have you spun that to your advantage? This seems highly unlikely, and I will be speaking with his Lordship."

"Nothing stopping you. If we're done here, I'd like to go to bed. Tired, on account of being pregnant and all." Thomas loved the speechless expression on Carson's face, he'd seen the man lost for words before, but he had obviously struck a nerve. Without permission, he climbed out of his chair and trotted out of the office.

The walk back to the bedroom was lonely. He'd never felt more alone. Coming back to his barren room, the squeaky metal-framed bed, old mattress, and scratchy sheets. Right now, he felt like a puppy sleeping rough in the rain. He hated these pregnancy hormones, drenching his pillow. His sadness would have felt justified had his day been awful from the start. That way he could have run away in the night and never come back. Now, he had to stagnate for the next few months.

A loud knocking on his bedroom door awoke him the next morning. He hadn't heard the morning bell or any proceeding it, and with no natural light, he had no idea what time it was. Thomas wasn't usually a side sleeper, but it had since become impossible to sleep on his front. So, actually sleeping comfortably was a rarity, which dominoed into grogginess and mood swings. Meaning, he was far less fun to be around that his usual charming self.

He edged himself up and aimlessly walked to the door. With eyes still mostly glued shut and mind still unfocused, he wedged open the door. With only his head peaked through the gap, "Mnn?" He hummed unable to formulate sentences yet.

"These are for you." The boy at the door handed Thomas a set of folded clothes. "Mr Carson told me to hand them to you, said you should be wearing these."

"What time is it?" He grumbled.

"It's quarter past five." Thomas audibly sighed, he'd forgotten what time Hall Boys actually woke up. He closed the door on the kid and in anguish, rested his forehead on the grain. So tired, he could have fallen asleep standing, with the wood as his pillow. He yawned loudly before slumping down onto his still warm sheets to inspect what he had in his hands.  
Carson had given him a freshly ironed uniform, the same as his last, just noticeably bigger. He laid out each piece anatomically and stood back for a better look. The waistcoat was faded, and the jacket patched up. Altogether not perfect but far from being shabby. He scoffed at how large everything was, far bigger than his actual body, surely.  
A sudden and desperate urge to pee sent him buzzing to the bathroom, he'd under-appreciated the beauty of leaving his bedroom without something to hide his bump. No corset, oversized jumper, or a load of clothes to fuss with so soon after opening his eyes. Heads turned as he waddled down the corridor, but he'd expected that. News spreads fast among these halls, but like all drama, people inevitably become de-sensitized.

Much more awake now, having showered and brushed his teeth, he came back to the oversized set of clothes that stared back at him mockingly. The trousers were inches too big, but he cuffed them with a safety pin, and the vest needed tightening but being fully dressed in something that accommodated his size was alarming. His body had changed so quickly, and he needed to replace everything. Some mornings his shoes are ill-fitting, and his hands don't slip through his sleeves without the cuffs unbuttoned. A passing thought spared for who used to own these hand-me-downs.

He brushed and waxed his hair as the final touch. He admired his silhouette in the mirror, before exclaiming, "blah." It would be wishful thinking to assume that his physique would become less grotesque overnight.

It had now just gone six, a time he'd usually just be getting out of bed. Already Mrs Patmore was cooking breakfast, pots, and pans chimed as they hit countertops. He approached the kitchen slowly, unsure whether he would be welcome.

"Not so fast, Mr Barrow." Carson turned the corner from his office. "Glad to see everything almost in order." He referred to the new attire.

"Well yes, as orderly as it's going to get anyway," Thomas replied smugly.

"Have some breakfast and polish the silver." Carson handed Thomas a set of keys to the cupboard with the fancy silver. Carson would use this as a test, whether he could trust Thomas given the boy's history with stealing. At the end of the day, he would take inventory to be certain that Thomas wasn't skiving off of the family. Should he pass then Carson might just let him filter the wine. "Let me know once you're finished."

"Will do Mr Carson." Thomas tucked the keys away and walked to the kitchen, starving. Lingering around the active stove, peering into every pot. His hand became dangerously close to sampling some leek and potato soup before Mrs Patmore barged back into the kitchen.

"Ten steps back!" She yelled. "Take a seat and I'll bring you something over." Thomas did as he was told and took a seat. Mrs Patmore brought Thomas over a healthy ladle of soup; she'd even made sure to dig for some of the chunkier pieces of potato. The soup came with a freshly baked roll still hot from the oven.

"What changed your mind?" Thomas spoke with a mouthful of bread.

"Do you really think that you're the first unwed mother I've crossed in my lifetime? No use being mad about it now. Eat up, you'll need to keep your strength."

"Sorry I'm late-" She ran in, breathless. She stopped, taken back to see Thomas casually sitting by the fireplace. "What are you doing here?" Daisy lectured. It was somewhat obvious that her sweet nature had been influenced by Alfie, the regimented fundamentalist who'd hated Thomas from the very moment that he'd been made aware of Thomas' sinful lifestyle.

"Leave him alone Daisy. Heaven forbid that you find yourself in a time of need." Mrs Patmore threw Daisy her piny, "now hop to it. You're late enough as it is." Thomas kept his head down to avoid Daisy's glare.

Thomas polished off his breakfast ravenously, still a little hungry. "That was lovely, thank you, Mrs Patmore." He placed bowl and spoon in the kitchen sink. He grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on his way out.

Just as he'd left the room, the rest of the service team came to receive their morning meals. Thomas scoffed, it seemed completely ominous as to why he had him up early, just to polish the silver. Carson had wanted to separate him from the others encase he ruffled feathers or caused a scene. Not everybody was as tolerant as Mrs Patmore and Mrs Hughes, he knew that much, but nothing bad could come of a little company.

It hadn't taken long to have everything gleaming; he'd done this so often before. Thinking about it rationally, he should have elongated the task, for who knew what else Carson had in store. Nevertheless, he called for Carson to check his work just as asked.

"You think that you've finished?" Carson arched a brow. The breakfast rush had just ended, and he had plenty of time to inspect that everything was up to standard.

"I have," Thomas responded.

"We shall see about that." Carson began picking up candlesticks, reflecting light off of plates, inspecting teapot spouts. Everything that wasn't as clean as he preferred was shifted to one side, "these can be put back, the rest needs some more attention." Carson ordered self-contemptuously.

"What was wrong with them?" Thomas asked, sure he'd given each piece the same amount of care.

"There are spots and blemishes that need some work, if you look closely, I'm sure that you'll see exactly what I mean. I'll be back in an hour to see that you're finished." Thomas held his tongue and did as he was told, first cleaning the 'dirty' pieces. He didn't want to run out of time fussing with arranging the clean things, and Carson walks in thinking that he's incompetent.

Thomas was sure everything was impeccable now. If he wiped down the cutlery any longer, then he'd start removing layers of silver. He was adamant that Carson would blame him for not scrubbing away a few spots of rust, but there was nothing he could do but replace things for them to look like new again. So, Thomas began to place the dubbed clean silver in the cabinet, knowing that Carson would simply rearrange everything to the way he liked once Thomas had left.

It was then that the cupboard keys slipped from his pocket unknowingly. He hadn't heard the chime as they hit the floor over the sound of the plates rattling together, having almost not caught them as they toppled off of the shelf.

It was ten to the hour and Carson would be along any minute. It wasn't something in particular that made him check his pockets, but thankfully he had. Panic set in as he unturned the lining of each pocket imaginable just encase.

He began searching the table, the floor around him, and everywhere else in the room. For the life of him, the keys were nowhere to be found. On his hands and knees, he searched thoroughly, he'd wondered under the table thinking that he'd seen a glisten in the corner when a voice called from the doorway.  
Anna had been passing by and happened curious about what was going on. She'd appeared quite shocked to see Thomas crawling around. "Is that you under there?" She asked. "You know, you shouldn't be moving around like that."

Thomas reversed slowly, his head hitting a piece of the table on the way out. He reached out to the edge to pull himself up, Anna hurried to his aid. "I've lost the cupboard keys; Carson's going to have my neck."

"He might just," She laughed. "I'll help you find them. They couldn't have gone very far." She too began looking.

"Why are you so nice?" Thomas asked. Had it been anyone else who'd found him, they'd likely laugh or walk by blindly. Anna hadn't a single resentful bone in her body, always supportive and non-judgmental. Because of her nature, she often ends up in difficult situations.

"Don't ask why just appreciate the kindness. People like you Thomas, you just need to let them."

"If they did, they definitely don't know." It wasn't much of a secret that he wasn't well-liked. He'd caused a lot of trouble over the last few years which made him extremely undesirable. Despite knowing his flaws, he made no effort to change. Yet, his unpopularity still affected him.

"It did come as quite the surprise, I must admit. It'll take some of the others some getting used to, but everybody will swoon over the baby." Anna was entirely envious, she longed for a family. Thomas would give birth to an undoubtedly beautiful child that he would love with every fiber of his being, regardless of the circumstances around its birth.

"His Lordship offered to take it on in the nursery."

"That was awful nice of him."

"Too nice, all things considered." The offer still seemed too good to be true.

"Don't torture yourself over the past, you've grown up since then." Her face lit up as she saw a glint in the corner of the room, "Thank goodness, look what I found!" She reached under a grooved foot to a cabinet, had it not been for a random ray of light coming through the window, those keys may have been lost forever.

"You've saved my life." He exclaimed.

"Why is that?" Startled, Thomas and Anna fixed their postures. Anna clasped the keys tightly in her hand to hide them from the very person who had no knowledge of their disappearance.

"No reason, in particular, Mr Carson." He lied.

"Run along please, Anna." Thomas wanted Anna to stay, encase he needed a witness to Carson's anger. She skilfully slipped the key set into Thomas' trouser pocket on her way out. She gleaned at him from the doorway once Carson had turned his back. Carson had immediately begun inspecting Thomas' work as soon as she left the room. His eye for detail scanning every inch of the delicacies.

"Much better, not perfect, but you'll develop a keen eye soon enough. If you could put the rest away, then you may go for a break."

"Thank you." Thomas felt like a new hall boy, being harassed by Carson. He wasn't so much of an invalid; he was the first footman after all. So, he didn't consider it appropriate to be treated like a child. Either way, he packed away the rest of the silver, it'd taken far longer than expected because there had been so much of it, that he couldn't make sense how it all managed to fit in before it was all taken out. It all went back eventually but Carson would likely have an aneurysm when he came back to check later on. He was hungry, and his patience running thin, so he locked the cabinet and left the keys on Carson's desk.

Lunch was being prepared to take upstairs, and everyone had congregated in the kitchen. As soon as Thomas walked in, all chatter stopped. "Don't stop on my account."

"How-How are you Mr Barrow?" Mr Mosley spoke amidst the silence.

"Very well, thank you, Mr Mosley."

"I do hope that Mr Carson isn't working you too hard." Mrs Hughes remarked, bringing some normal small talk to the kitchen.

"Can't say that he has, Mrs Hughes." Not that Thomas would say so if he had been.

"If you're not taking a tray, what are you doing clouding up my kitchen." Mrs Patmore raged, stress-headed.

"I've been banned from going upstairs, given everything, it's to be expected." He'd have been shocked if, after that display, he'd even be allowed outside of his bedroom.

"Don't fret, it'll be over in a month or two." Mr Mosley smiled.

"Thankfully." Thomas stretched out his back a little, bending left and right. Having been hunched over most of the morning, his back ached.

"Now you're being a distraction. Sit down and I'll fix you some lunch, just not right this second." Mrs Patmore fixed Thomas a few cucumber and cheese sandwiches. He barely had enough time to finish before Carson rolled around looking for him. Carson waited impatiently in the doorway for Thomas to scoff the last few mouthfuls, leaving behind a much-desired crust.

"His Lordship has just returned from walking the dog, I'll need you to clean and buff his boots, as well as these few pairs."

"This is a valet's job."

"Am I mistaken? Are you not still an employee here at the house? And are you not eager to earn your keep?"

"When you put it that way..."

"I trust you know where everything is. Finish all of this, then I see no reason why you can't join us for dinner."


	5. Mrs O'Brien: The Gossip

Everything had moved since the last time he'd had to buff a pair of shoes. He searched the cupboards until he remembered at last, it proved quite the feat around his widening stomach. Eventually, he found the things he needed, so hung up his jacket, rolled his sleeves and tied his apron. Over the sink, he splashed and scrubbed off the mud that was caught in every tread. Luckily these weren't an ordinary pair, or else dirt would be soaked even into the stitching.

He'd worked up a little bit of a sweat scrubbing so hard. Clean, the wellies sat to dry on a towel.  
He moved through the few shoes that wait in the queue. Thomas brushed clean, dried, polished and buffed. It was a workout, but he was determined to get the job lot done tonight. Carson had popped his head in once or twice, not saying anything, which went unnoticed. Thankfully, Carson missed the times Thomas had snuck out to the bathroom, or else the boy might have been accused of slacking off.

Butt incredibly numb, having finished the last shoe. He shimmied off the stool and sighed. His back ached from a lack of lumbar support. Not only that, but his stomach also growled miserably. Despite the hard work, he felt far from satisfied. The combination of things had put him in one of those hormone-induced frustrated moods.

"Ah, good. You've finished." Carson prodded in. A lack of response or rather a lack of a pleasant response told him not to press the boy. For that reason, he only took a quick glance over everything, "fine work. You may be excused."

Thomas nodded, somewhat surprised that his resting pregnancy face was enough to make Carson entirely uncomfortable. If that were the case, and he hoped so, then finally it had some advantage. He hung up the apron and grabbed his jacket. He had the goal of relaxing in mind and knew of the perfect place to do so. Right in front of the- by now- lit fireplace, in the only comfy chair. Dinner service would be commencing soon, so that dream would be all his.

That's where he could be found while everyone hurried around him. Forbidden to help, he sat leisurely in his chair. Before long he was fast asleep, shoes off, feet propped on a stool. His nap went uninterrupted for over an hour, before Mrs Patmore woke him up, yelling at Daisy. She'd dropped a pot onto the floor, and it had dented on impact.

"It slipped, I'm sorry." She cried in defense.

"Honestly, girl! Where has your head been today?"

"It's not like they can't afford a new one anyway."

"That's not the point. Lay the table, will yer?" She shoed her away.

Thomas stood up and stretched, "Here, give me half." He offered. Daisy had to stop herself before saying anything untoward encase she'd be in for another grilling. Instead, she gave Thomas a wad of placemats. After distributing them at every chair, Thomas laid the bread bowl and helped take platters to the table. Dinner looked great; cottage pie, roast potatoes, boiled vegetables. A hearty meal, no doubt cooked with love.

"Thank you, Thomas," Daisy commented earnestly. She appreciated the help, especially since Thomas offered to carry the particularly hot food, no questions asked.

"Don't mention it." Doing his part made him feel useful, more so than the mediocre tasks he'd been doing all day.

Staff piled into the sight and smell of fresh food, a reward for a hard day's work. The table was mostly quiet as everyone ate, but that hadn't lasted very long. As it seemed, most of the drama had subsided. In fact, mostly everyone had questions to ask. Although the others were still uncomfortable, it was nice not to be ignored.

People asked questions like, "how long you got left?" and "how's it going to come out?" His favourite had been from Daisy who just asked, "is it weird?" such a vague question made him laugh because of course the whole experience was weird and for many different reasons.

"I'm sorry for the way that I acted, it was wrong of me." Daisy apologised, "I didn't know at the time, that this wasn't your fault." She said innocently. Thomas clenched his jaw and exhaled, "Oh, I'm sorry. Were we not supposed to know? Only Mrs O'Brien told us-"

At lunch, everyone sat at their leisure around the table. Mrs O'Brien was mending the buttons on a blouse, Mr Mosley reading the newspaper and the others playing a game of cards. Daisy arrived with a fresh pot of tea topping up cups around the table, listening in on the gossip of the day.

"Are we all going to sit around and pretend last night didn't happen?" Alfie asked, throwing himself into a chair. "It's bloody disgusting. Maybe I ought to sell him to the police." He threatened.

"I know, can't have something like that happening under this roof." James echoed.

"That's enough, both of you. Neither would be saying such a thing if you knew…" She teased, looking up from her work. She made eye contact with them all, luring their attention before returning to her sewing.

"There's more to this twisted story?" Alfie questioned.

"I don't think it very nice to engage in such gossip." Mr Bates added, looking up from his newspaper. Whatever Thomas had going on his life right now would surely not be eased by the spread of personal gossip such as this. His moral high ground was not shared among the others who were all desperate for a good story.

"It's not for me to say, I've already said too much." She teased.

"Oh, tell us, please," Daisy begged, putting down the pot and taking a seat, becoming physically closer to the conversation. "Please?" she lived for gossip.

"Let's just put it this way, our proud Thomas wouldn't have brought this on himself?" She revealed after a lengthy and awaited pause. She pretended not to be interested in their responses but took a sly look anyway. They all seemed vaguely confused, but it was Daisy's small gasp that made her grin, the lights were on, no need for an explanation.

"You mean to say that he was," Daisy lowered her voice, trying to be discreet over the dinner table, "attacked?" She phased over the word, seeing it as indecent for a lady to say. Attacked, for better use of the word, was less grotesque.

"Suppose he deserved it, for what he is." He spat confidently.

"What a vile thing to say, Alfie! Heaven forbid that something happens to you." Daisy yelled, slapping her ginger friend across the arm forcefully. She'd never been so disgusted. Alfie's face dropped, Daisy's opinions meant a great deal, and now he felt ashamed.

"So, he's really a victim? Who'd have thought." James scoffed, shuffling the deck in his hands. He still resented Thomas after the spat of indecency, and frankly had little concern for his welfare.

"Yes, he is. You'll do well to remember that fact." She lectured.

"Remember what?" Mrs Hughes asked from the doorway when nobody responded her eyes shifted around the room. The purposefully distracted faces had her inquisitive.

"Never you mind Daisy," Thomas was skeptical about the sudden behavioural change. "I'll say this loud enough for the others." He stood up to make his announcement. "As it's common knowledge by now, courtesy of Mrs O'Brien, I can confirm the rumors to be true. I don't want to talk about that particularly dark time in my life, so I would like to ask that nobody bring it up again."

"I'm sorry, Thomas," Daisy whispered awkwardly.

"No need, it was only a matter of time."

"I just want to let you know that I will never excuse your deviance, who you keep company with goes against all of the morals my religion has taught me." Daisy reached to Alfie's arm, trying to pull him away from saying something he'd likely regret, "Having said all that, nobody deserves to go through what you have, and for that, I think you're very brave."  
Thomas was shocked by Alfred's revelation. Alfie had been little but silent about how much he resented Thomas for his sexuality, but this was unexpected. What Thomas could have counted on was Alfie never speaking a word to him in protest. Actually, Alfie touched him, and it inevitably had him welling up.

He coughed, "Yes, well…" he stuttered embarrassingly.

"Leave him alone Daisy, you've still got a lot to do." Mrs Patmore scolded.

As the others came back from their duties, the air in the room had become increasingly tense. "Thomas, it's getting late, you ought to go to bed. I'll expect to see you at the same time tomorrow." Although, Carson had no arranged challenges for tomorrow but would have to make something up before the morning. In such a grand house, there had to be something to do or clean.

"Suppose you're right. Pleasant dreams." He bid fictitiously.

"What exactly happened here exactly, and this time I'd like a response." Mrs Hughes asked.

"Just talking about Thomas's situation. 'Bout what happened..." James answered, having been the only one brave enough to speak through the silence.

"I don't suppose that it's any of our business. I don't need to remind you all that what happens in this house, stays in this house, understood?" Her telling off was followed by a sorrowful chorus of yeses.

Thomas was tired, more so now he'd gotten ready for bed than he knew. Seemingly the child growing within had other plans. Relentless punching and kicking had him tossing and turning. At several points in the night and into the morning he cursed aloud, becoming frustrated the longer he was awake. His child had been asleep for most of his waking hours, and now was apparently a convenient time to blow some steam.

He kept checking his alarm clock, counting down the time he had left to sleep. 7 hours and 32 minutes, 6 hours, 5 hours and 15 minutes, 4 hours...3...2 and a moment of sweet bliss transpired, and Thomas fell straight to sleep. To be rudely woken by the annoying chime of his clock only an hour and twelve minutes later.

No amount of cold water would bring him back from the brink of death. Instead, he slumped into his gear and trudged into the kitchen. He filled a kettle up with water and placed it on an empty burner, in a clean cup he spooned a couple of heaps of instant coffee. Although it made him a little lightheaded, the morning called for a boost of caffeine.

"What do you look like?" Thomas jumped, he hadn't heard the old cook coming, despite her size and the sound of her shoes. He'd just been so unaware.

"Thanks, just what I needed to hear." He quipped sarcastically.

"You look positively dead. Sit down,"

"If I sit down, I won't get back up." On account of his size and his complete lack of apathy.

"Poor thing. Hungry? Fancy a spot of breakfast? Bacon, sausages-'

"No egg." They followed in unison. While Mrs Patmore sparked a hot flame, Thomas placed some bread into the toaster. He enjoyed a massive breakfast, one fit for the family upstairs. Seldom did he ever get to enjoy such luxuries. Yesterday he had quality soup and fresh bread, and today a fry-up, only now pregnancy was serving him well. At the beginning the baby hated porridge, he couldn't stomach the stuff, instead, he lived off of toast and preserves. After a while, his appetite grew too large to turn down food...apart from eggs, never eggs, be it boiled, fried, poached... He wasn't entirely sure what turned him off exactly, but he did retch at the very smell.

"Ah, there you are." Carson looked away uncomfortably, Thomas had been sitting with a hand rubbing his stomach. "I have a big job if you're up to it?"

"What would you have me do?"

"Count the stock, everything that's on the shelves in the storage space."

"That all?" He scoffed sarcastically. The storage room was ceiling-high with every fine thing that the Crawley family had acquired in the last few hundred years. It'd take days to count each and every object. Stock counts on this scale are usually done by Carson over the span of a week, or in a few days with some trusted hands.

"Whatever you don't finish today will roll into tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. A thorough job cannot be rushed."

"You're the boss."

"I think you'll be needed this," he pulled the thick logbook out from behind his back. A prized possession that he'd never considered parting with before this morning. Thomas held out a hand to receive the book, it's surprising weight had him reach out with the other hand to prevent it from falling to the floor. "A single item out of place, you shall inform me at once." With a tightly clenched jaw, he released over the keys.

"Don't you worry, Mr Carson. I'll have this done in no time." A bluff, so he didn't look so pathetic. It would take him at least two days to finish everything if he worked day and night. He prepared for his new life as a shut-in on the walkover.

He spent hours and hours in the storeroom when he missed lunch, Daisy brought him in some sandwiches and tea to keep him going. Endless numbers and shiny surfaces were making his brain melt. Running on very little sleep, it was inevitable that he'd start to succumb. Yawning and restless foot-tapping turned into aching muscles, and soon he couldn't heave his heavy body out of his chair. One thing led to another and before he'd even realized, he was fast asleep. Head resting in the crook of his elbow and stomach wedged under the table.

There was no telling when exactly he'd fallen asleep, but it wasn't until Anna came looking for him which woke him up. "Thomas." She whispered gently rubbing a shoulder, "I've come to collect you, it's time for supper." She spoke calmingly. "Thomas..."

"Mnn?" He woke, confused, and dazed. The whites of his eyes pink and his bags puffy, he was somewhat well-rested.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

"'m fine...just dozed off." He rubbed his eyes forcefully, blurring his vision. "What time is it?"

"Dinner time, good thing I came to find you. Don't think you'd have moved till morning otherwise." Thomas failed to pull himself up from his chair. It seemed like the awkward sleeping position had made his back seize up and he could no longer move. Anna watched stifling a small giggle. It wasn't until Thomas threw his head forward in anguish and sighed that she offered a hand. "Let me." She looped Thomas's arm around her neck and hoisted him forward.

"I feel so pathetic." He winced, cracking his spine to relieve some of the pressure.

"Don't say that everyone needs a little help now and again, especially when they're having a baby." She knew Thomas wouldn't take the sympathy, "let's go before the others eat without us."

Thomas made sure to lock up before leaving for dinner, "I'll be right behind." He announced before making a detour to the bathroom. He did his business and splashed his face with some cold water, wiping away the crust round his eyes and drying his clammy complexion. He fixed his hair in places and straightened himself out before decidedly being fresh enough to leave.

As again, the moment he walked through the door the room became quiet. For some, it was still quite the shock and he didn't mind so much anymore.  
Having eaten dinner and already having slept, he continued on with his task. He promised himself that he would stop at a reasonable time and give it his full effort to catch a few hours' sleep. It would be a risky game, falling into a cycle of sleeping during the daytime


	6. Curiosity

Thomas had barely slept that night, walking up every so often in a panic. He assumed that it must have been his mind reverting in and out of a nightmare. He had nightmares often. Sometimes they were peculiar, involving herding sheep in the rain or or his teeth falling out. Some dreams were dark whilst others bad memories.

Dressed in his long coat, he looked nothing more than naturally portly. It was on the verge of not fitting, just another inch or two around his mid-section and he'd pop a button or three. For now, it served as a great disguise, hiding the bump and his unfastened waistband. See, he'd outgrown all of his clothes, he'd only gotten away with it for so long because of the corset he had been wearing. Being too busy, too sick, too lazy, or too afraid to go outside meant that he hadn't brought anything to accommodate his size. However, he still looked rather dashing in his coat, with a hat to finish the look.

He strolled into the kitchen, kitted up for a venture outside. Breakfast had just ended, to which he hadn't been in attendance. Instead, he had a long hot bath, applied Nivea to the sore skin around his stomach, and styled his hair. For the first time in a while, he was ready to brace the day.

He inspected the apples sitting in the fruit bowl, satisfied that he'd picked one perfectly red and with no bruises he took a mighty bite. The others stared at him, inspecting his get-up. "Going somewhere today are we Thomas?" Carson asked.

"I am. Heading into town, if anybody wants to come to join me?" He had taken Lady Mary's advice and decided to spend the day doing something for himself and getting out of the house.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Carson looked Thomas up and down. He hadn't needed to imply a reason why, but his looks were telling enough. The old butler was anxious about Thomas being recognised, exposed and inevitably tied to the household.

"I've got things to do, Mr Carson." Thomas had planned an itinerary of things to do today including; getting a head start on baby necessities like clothes, nappies and such, as well as stopping for a bite to eat, and maybe dropping in on Dr Clarkson if the good doctor could spare some time.

Carson eased a tight jaw, "Very well. Shall we expect to see you for dinner?" He bit his tongue.

"I would expect so, yes." He smiled patronisingly. It was clear that the two being civil with one another was a shoddy mask of how much they resented each other. Carson hadn't wanted to argue and cause a scene especially given the shift in the attitudes of those around him. And Thomas wanted to keep the sympathy of others and could only do so by toning down his arrogant outbursts. This dynamic would prove difficult for them both to uphold in the long run.

"That wasn't so hard." Mrs Hughes jested.

Thomas left through the service door, and through the gate at the end of the driveway. He didn't think it necessary to wait for the local bus towards town, even his waddling pace would get him there sooner. He passed the local school and the village church, tipping his head to anybody that recognised him out-and-about. Nobody seemed any the wiser. He passed a few market stalls selling freshly prepared goods, so he picked himself up a small bag of roasted chestnuts and sat on a bench to finish his fiddly snack. The quaint little town buzzed around him, as he relaxed. It felt almost instinctual to caress his stomach like he did when he was feeling this calm. He couldn't with so many familiar faces around.

The children out of school were playing and causing a nuisance, their parents giving them a slap across the hand for their bad behaviour. It served as a reminder of how little he liked children. Although, in fairness, Thomas could relate to the naughty boy stealing sweets, and he considered himself to have grown up well. If the situation hadn't been forced upon him, Thomas would have never considered having kids, settling with a wife for the sake of social pressure and making one or two little rascals – living unhappily no doubt.

Finished, he set out to check some of the things off on his list. A top priority had been to get his hair cut. The private man he was, he could never trust one of the others at the house to give him a decent trim. Instead, he would wait for an afternoon off every so often when he could take a walk into town and get it done professionally. It didn't cost very much, and his barber knew exactly how he wore his hair. For a little while every three weeks, he could chat to someone and it didn't have to be work-related.

"Thomas! It's been a while, come in, take a seat." Andrew called, slapping the hair off of the chair just in front. "How've you been, up at the big house?" He asked as Thomas took a seat. He wrapped the apron around Thomas' neck and prepared his things.

"Can't complain."

"Looking more like me every day, what's happened to you?" Andrew slapped his gut, it's girth attributed to his love for beer and pork pies. "Only yanking your chain. Happens to every man at some stage." Thomas scoffed; this does not happen to every man.

"It won't last forever, trust me." He vowed. Thomas missed his tone, aside from the obvious child attached to the front of his body, he'd done well to keep off body fat. Thomas was very much under the impression that his body would almost wholly 'bounce back' soon after giving birth. It was this blissful ignorance that kept him sane throughout the changes to his body.

"Each morning I get up, look in the mirror and tell myself that exact same thing." He teased, sniping away at Thomas' locks.

"How's the Mrs?" Thomas asked, steering the conversation in an entirely different direction.

"Expecting." He sighed.

"Oh? You seem far from pleased?"

"It's not that, they're great you know." He paused, concentrating on a particular inch of hair. "It's just been a while since our last is all. Thought all the sleepless nights were over. I'm too old to be going through all this again. Not to mention children are expensive, I wasn't sure I could afford another one." Thomas sat back and listened to the man's woes. It happened to be an all too familiar feeling, stress and worry. "The worst of it all, me and the wife were finally spending time together. The kids are old enough to look after each other, so we've been able to rekindle some of what we used to be."

"By the sounds of it, that's what got you into this situation." For a moment the two laughed and Thomas' cheeky assertion.

"This one's not so easy on her either. She's older now and she's having a hard time. I mean, I cooked dinner last night. Me. Wasn't anything fancy mind you, but she'd been too tired to cook."

"At least you can cook." A far side better than his own skills – or their lack of.

"More like throwing things into a pan and hoping for the best." Andrew brushed the loose hair from Thomas' shoulder. "The children ate it. Suppose that's all that matters." Rubbing a giant dollop of wax into the palm of his hands, he began to style the fresh trim.

"My advice, lookout and avoid certain triggers, and eat little and often," Thomas suggested. He managed to alleviate his nausea by quitting smoking and small snacks throughout the day gave him more energy.

"Since when did you become an expert?" The apron came off and Andrew did a final inspection before giving Thomas a pat on the back.

"I'm not." He added.

"When will you be back?" Thomas dug his wallet from his pocket and paid for the cut, with a few pence extra for a tip. Andrew pinged open the till to stash the money. "You had me thinking you'd taken your business elsewhere."

"Can't say." He found it hard to imagine a time within the next few weeks where he'd be comfortable leaving the house. Before long, he would be too big to inconspicuously wander around town. Today had been a complete one-off.

"They must really be working you hard, at that rate, you'll lose the weight in no time." He laughed.

Thomas tipped his hat, bidding goodbye, "Nice seeing you anyway."

He took a breather, letting the cold autumn air fill his lungs. It took a moment to decide where to head off too next. His stride was confident but as soon as he approached the boutique he froze, staring into the window. He felt, even before walking through the door, that he didn't belong. He was and wasn't their clientele all at the same time. What felt like more seconds passed but in reality, he'd been standing out front of the shop window for almost twenty minutes.

Zoned out completely, he hadn't noticed the hand reach out for his right arm. "You've been standing here for some time, any particular reason?" A friendly voice snapped him out of his daze. Anna had observed Thomas from a distance for some time before approaching. "I'm just glad it's you, otherwise that would have been an embarrassment." She smiled. "Thomas?"

"I can't go in?" His voice high and erratic.

"And why not?" Anna scowled.

"I'm a man. This is a woman's shop." He gestured to the mannequins in the window draped in a lady's maternity dress. "They'd shoo me away before the bell stopped ringing."

"Want me to come in with you?"

"I can't ask that." By doing so, could create gossip within their small community. Unfavourable gossip which would reflect badly on the both of them, more so Anna.

"I'm not worried." She'd gained some confidence having procured contraception on behalf of Lady Mary not too long ago. She linked her arm with his, tugging him in the direction of the door. He refrained, standing his ground. "You're about to have a baby. My guess is that you'll need to go in sooner or later."

"Does it have to be now?" He gulped.

"It's a better time as any. That child isn't going to wait for you to be ready." She raised a brow accusingly. "If somebody asks, I'll tell them it's me." She left and went in on her own, Thomas sighed shaking his head. He followed shortly after. "Do you have a list?" She asked.

"I-" He remembered suddenly, digging for his wallet and opening the notes compartment. He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, hurried scribbles read like hieroglyphs. Only he could make out his own handwriting. The note had been sitting in his wallet for a few months now after having read a book given to him by Dr Clarkson that he still had stashed under his mattress.

"You haven't checked anything off of your list." She said, voice raised.

"No. No. I haven't." He avoided her frustrated gaze, knowing that it was entirely his own fault for leaving things so late. Wind swept over his face and he closed his eyes to take in the fresh air.

"No matter, we can pick most of this up today." She said confidently. She looked positively determined which had Thomas a little worried but also relieved that something he'd pushed off could finally be lifted from his other burdens.

Sure enough, Anna scoured the entire store picking up things she believed totally necessary. By the end, when it came to paying, the total came to a substantial amount. He rubbed his face feeling rather helpless, having to turn over a large portion of his savings. He really had no idea just how expensive it really was to have a child.

Anna flipped through a furniture catalogue she'd picked up from the post office. "How do you feel about this one?" She pointed out to a gloss finished rocking crib. "Did you want to look after the little one yourself?"

"Haven't given it much thought," Thomas replied. After His Lordship's generous offer, he hadn't given much thought as to how involved he wanted to be in taking care of his baby. As it stood, the offer stipulated that his child could be watched by the nanny during the day and should he choose to, look after the baby on his own during the evening.

"I suppose you'll have to consider how you're going to feed the baby." Thomas ducked his head bashfully. Perhaps one of the most alarming developments which might have pushed him over the edge in seeking medical advice had been the expansion of his nipples. Not only did they become engorged but over time the nipples grew in size and turned a worrisome purple. They weren't magnificent in size, but they were far bigger than he could ever recognise. "Oh." Anna smiled. "In that case, you might want to decide after it's born. Not everybody can feed naturally."

Thomas was far too bashful to respond, "You should get one just encase. We'll have a closer look later on." She rolled the catalogue and shoved it into her handbag. "Here, let me carry that." She gasped, noticing the handfuls of bags that Thomas had been carrying.

"I've got it." He tightened his grip on the bags in his hands as Anna reached out to claim them.

"You know what they say about heavy lifting." She persuaded.

"I'm no sap." Thomas needed to retain his naturally chivalrous nature. Having a woman carry his bags would make him feel even more emasculated, especially after the nature of their latest conversation.

"Okay, well you'll let me know when you get tired." She understood just how fragile Thomas' emotions were right now, but she hadn't realised exactly the extent until Thomas stopped mid-stride and began to quietly sob behind one hand. "Whatever's the matter?"

"I'm losing my mind is all," The tears turned into light laughter. "I'm not enjoying this." His emotions got the best of him sometimes despite knowing how ridiculous it was to cry over nothing or matters trivial. He wiped the tears as quickly as they came until eventually, they stopped altogether.

"You'll be alright, nobody should feel embarrassed about showing emotion. It's okay to have a good cry sometimes." She comforted. 

Back at the house Mary and Matthew were taking a walk through the gardens. The topic of conversation that dominated each time had been their inability to conceive. Mary was beginning to worry, having been married for just over six months, she felt hopeless. Matthew was her rock, keeping her optimistic through her troubles.

"It shouldn't be this hard, maybe there's something wrong?"

"We've talked about this, sometimes couples wait years for a baby." She fell quiet. "Speaking of, I heard that one of your footmen had a rather nasty accident. I've been meaning to ask how he'd been getting on since then." He knew Thomas by name, having screamed it in more ways than one.

"Thomas? Oh, he's fine. Better than fine. Thinking about it he's rather blessed..." Mary hadn't considered her own jealousy. At the moment she'd been genuinely happy for Thomas, the one who always came across particularly lonely. Thomas was particularly lucky, in comparison. He'd likely gotten pregnant on the first and presumably only attempt, while she was stuck worrying about her future.

"How so?" He queried, his wife looking more upset.

"You're my husband, and I suppose the others will find out eventually. You must promise for it to not leave our marriage." She put sternly. She herself had made a promise to keep the truth a secret, so if it got out she'd feel particularly bad Thomas suffered

"You can trust me, with anything." He answered sincerely.

"You may choose not even to believe me, it does seem so absurd." Mary winced, trying to fashion a delicate way to phrase the truth.

"Are you waiting for my heart to give out from curiosity?"

"Well, he's been knocked up." Mary laughed innocently whilst Matthew's head exploded with memories. His and Thomas' first kiss, the first time they made love, and each and every time thereafter until the last time. It was then that his heart jumped into his throat with crippling anxiety.

"Explain." He choked out, desperate for more information.

"Exactly what I said. He's been hiding it for months now, I'm not sure how looking at him now... he's gigantic." A loop replayed in his mind, it told of guilt and culpability upon hearing that he was a few months far gone, he knew the child was his, without a doubt.

"What is to become of him?" Matthew wasn't sure as to what he'd like to have done with Thomas. With a selfish mindset, he'd prefer Thomas be fired and thrown out to guard their secret, but a pang of compassion for an old flame would have him think otherwise. The person carrying his seed, somebody he foolishly fell for shouldn't be treated in such a way.

"Nothing. Papa has taken to him rather kindly. It does seem rather odd, but father is full of surprises recently." She chuckled.

"How's Thomas dealing with it all?"

"I've only just found out. He seems put together, although quite lonely I'm sure. I certainly wouldn't want to be going through it alone."

"Yes..." He diminished. "Yes."

"I'm heading into London tomorrow, it'll only take a few days." Mary mentioned. She'd actually been seeing a doctor in London and was going this time to have a simple procedure to correct something within her uterus. It would hopefully give her a chance to conceive. After all of her dread and worry, it still wasn't over. "I'm seeing my aunt." She lied.

"Right." He muttered, distracted. Mary was somewhat annoyed with how little Matthew cared.

"So, have you thought of any names?" She asked, distracting Thomas from his emotions.

"Not exactly. I'll probably name it something traditional like George or Elizabeth." If it wasn't for how cripplingly sick smoking made him, he'd have rushed through two cigarettes by now, in effort to calm himself down.

"You can, or you could pick a name more exotic?" Thomas laughed, of all things, he wouldn't consider himself to have a flare for the exotic.

"I appreciate you doing this for me. I don't know anyone else who would." He said appreciatively. Not a single soul would care enough or put themselves out in the same way Anna had. There was a time when he considered himself to be popular, most of the women of the house would swoon at his good looks, but it was shallow.

"It's no bother, really. You may not want to believe it; I care about you." She grinned. "Now, I don't want to rush you if you're not ready to head back, but I've got a long list waiting for me"

"I didn't mention it earlier, but Lady Mary knows. She ambushed me last night."

"I'm afraid that could have been me. I might have mentioned that Mr Carson had you working in the cellar. I had no idea that-"

"Couldn't throw a blanket over this, could I?" He admitted circling his stomach with his right hand, astonished to have kept things hush- hush for this long.

"I hate to agree. If His Lordship knows, then Her Ladyship definitely does. No doubt Matthew now knows your secret too, but he's a decent man, it'll be safe with him. That just leaves-" Anna stopped upon hearing an audible exhale. "Is everything alright?" She observed as Thomas' life drained from his body. "Was it something I said?"

Thomas felt familiar sharp cramping that he'd felt before in the week leading to his accident. He recognized it as stress and so started to focus on his breathing. It was completely predictable that Matthew was to find out the truth, but he was entirely prepared for that turn of events. "Peachy." He nodded.

"Do you need me to run to Dr Clarkson?" She panicked.

"No, no. I'm alright." The initial fight-or-flight was fading and with it the pain. What did remain were the heavy palpitations.

"Don't you scare me like that." She huffed, "you ought to take things slow from now on."

"I'm sitting down, does it get any slower than this?" He joked, stretching himself around the arched back of the bench. He took another loud exhale and breathed in the calm.

"Oh, you know what I mean." She nudged him playfully. Stress, something she'd always assumed rebounded from the man, was hitting him hard. Dangerous to him and the baby. Anna did, however, find it all too curious as to why Matthew's name triggered such a reaction. Given Matthew's outwardly nice nature, she didn't automatically assume the worst. She was smart enough not to press or ask questions with Thomas the way he was. Instead, she picked up his share of the bags, and Thomas didn't argue this time. "Let's go."


	7. A Quiet Saturday?

Thomas had barely slept that night, walking up every so often in a panic. He assumed that it must have been his mind reverting in and out of a nightmare. He had nightmares often. Sometimes they were peculiar, involving herding sheep in the rain or or his teeth falling out. Some dreams were dark whilst others bad memories.

Dressed in his long coat, he looked nothing more than naturally portly. It was on the verge of not fitting, just another inch or two around his mid-section and he'd pop a button or three. For now, it served as a great disguise, hiding the bump and his unfastened waistband. See, he'd outgrown all of his clothes, he'd only gotten away with it for so long because of the corset he had been wearing. Being too busy, too sick, too lazy, or too afraid to go outside meant that he hadn't brought anything to accommodate his size. However, he still looked rather dashing in his coat, with a hat to finish the look.

He strolled into the kitchen, kitted up for a venture outside. Breakfast had just ended, to which he hadn't been in attendance. Instead, he had a long hot bath, applied Nivea to the sore skin around his stomach, and styled his hair. For the first time in a while, he was ready to brace the day.

He inspected the apples sitting in the fruit bowl, satisfied that he'd picked one perfectly red and with no bruises he took a mighty bite. The others stared at him, inspecting his get-up. "Going somewhere today are we Thomas?" Carson asked.

"I am. Heading into town, if anybody wants to come to join me?" He had taken Lady Mary's advice and decided to spend the day doing something for himself and getting out of the house.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Carson looked Thomas up and down. He hadn't needed to imply a reason why, but his looks were telling enough. The old butler was anxious about Thomas being recognised, exposed and inevitably tied to the household.

"I've got things to do, Mr Carson." Thomas had planned an itinerary of things to do today including; getting a head start on baby necessities like clothes, nappies and such, as well as stopping for a bite to eat, and maybe dropping in on Dr Clarkson if the good doctor could spare some time.

Carson eased a tight jaw, "Very well. Shall we expect to see you for dinner?" He bit his tongue.

"I would expect so, yes." He smiled patronisingly. It was clear that the two being civil with one another was a shoddy mask of how much they resented each other. Carson hadn't wanted to argue and cause a scene especially given the shift in the attitudes of those around him. And Thomas wanted to keep the sympathy of others and could only do so by toning down his arrogant outbursts. This dynamic would prove difficult for them both to uphold in the long run.

"That wasn't so hard." Mrs Hughes jested.

Thomas left through the service door, and through the gate at the end of the driveway. He didn't think it necessary to wait for the local bus towards town, even his waddling pace would get him there sooner. He passed the local school and the village church, tipping his head to anybody that recognised him out-and-about. Nobody seemed any the wiser. He passed a few market stalls selling freshly prepared goods, so he picked himself up a small bag of roasted chestnuts and sat on a bench to finish his fiddly snack. The quaint little town buzzed around him, as he relaxed. It felt almost instinctual to caress his stomach like he did when he was feeling this calm. He couldn't with so many familiar faces around.

The children out of school were playing and causing a nuisance, their parents giving them a slap across the hand for their bad behaviour. It served as a reminder of how little he liked children. Although, in fairness, Thomas could relate to the naughty boy stealing sweets, and he considered himself to have grown up well. If the situation hadn't been forced upon him, Thomas would have never considered having kids, settling with a wife for the sake of social pressure and making one or two little rascals – living unhappily no doubt.

Finished, he set out to check some of the things off on his list. A top priority had been to get his hair cut. The private man he was, he could never trust one of the others at the house to give him a decent trim. Instead, he would wait for an afternoon off every so often when he could take a walk into town and get it done professionally. It didn't cost very much, and his barber knew exactly how he wore his hair. For a little while every three weeks, he could chat to someone and it didn't have to be work-related.

"Thomas! It's been a while, come in, take a seat." Andrew called, slapping the hair off of the chair just in front. "How've you been, up at the big house?" He asked as Thomas took a seat. He wrapped the apron around Thomas' neck and prepared his things.

"Can't complain."

"Looking more like me every day, what's happened to you?" Andrew slapped his gut, it's girth attributed to his love for beer and pork pies. "Only yanking your chain. Happens to every man at some stage." Thomas scoffed; this does not happen to every man.

"It won't last forever, trust me." He vowed. Thomas missed his tone, aside from the obvious child attached to the front of his body, he'd done well to keep off body fat. Thomas was very much under the impression that his body would almost wholly 'bounce back' soon after giving birth. It was this blissful ignorance that kept him sane throughout the changes to his body.

"Each morning I get up, look in the mirror and tell myself that exact same thing." He teased, sniping away at Thomas' locks.

"How's the Mrs?" Thomas asked, steering the conversation in an entirely different direction.

"Expecting." He sighed.

"Oh? You seem far from pleased?"

"It's not that, they're great you know." He paused, concentrating on a particular inch of hair. "It's just been a while since our last is all. Thought all the sleepless nights were over. I'm too old to be going through all this again. Not to mention children are expensive, I wasn't sure I could afford another one." Thomas sat back and listened to the man's woes. It happened to be an all too familiar feeling, stress and worry. "The worst of it all, me and the wife were finally spending time together. The kids are old enough to look after each other, so we've been able to rekindle some of what we used to be."

"By the sounds of it, that's what got you into this situation." For a moment the two laughed and Thomas' cheeky assertion.

"This one's not so easy on her either. She's older now and she's having a hard time. I mean, I cooked dinner last night. Me. Wasn't anything fancy mind you, but she'd been too tired to cook."

"At least you can cook." A far side better than his own skills – or their lack of.

"More like throwing things into a pan and hoping for the best." Andrew brushed the loose hair from Thomas' shoulder. "The children ate it. Suppose that's all that matters." Rubbing a giant dollop of wax into the palm of his hands, he began to style the fresh trim.

"My advice, lookout and avoid certain triggers, and eat little and often," Thomas suggested. He managed to alleviate his nausea by quitting smoking and small snacks throughout the day gave him more energy.

"Since when did you become an expert?" The apron came off and Andrew did a final inspection before giving Thomas a pat on the back.

"I'm not." He added.

"When will you be back?" Thomas dug his wallet from his pocket and paid for the cut, with a few pence extra for a tip. Andrew pinged open the till to stash the money. "You had me thinking you'd taken your business elsewhere."

"Can't say." He found it hard to imagine a time within the next few weeks where he'd be comfortable leaving the house. Before long, he would be too big to inconspicuously wander around town. Today had been a complete one-off.

"They must really be working you hard, at that rate, you'll lose the weight in no time." He laughed.

Thomas tipped his hat, bidding goodbye, "Nice seeing you anyway."

He took a breather, letting the cold autumn air fill his lungs. It took a moment to decide where to head off too next. His stride was confident but as soon as he approached the boutique he froze, staring into the window. He felt, even before walking through the door, that he didn't belong. He was and wasn't their clientele all at the same time. What felt like more seconds passed but in reality, he'd been standing out front of the shop window for almost twenty minutes.

Zoned out completely, he hadn't noticed the hand reach out for his right arm. "You've been standing here for some time, any particular reason?" A friendly voice snapped him out of his daze. Anna had observed Thomas from a distance for some time before approaching. "I'm just glad it's you, otherwise that would have been an embarrassment." She smiled. "Thomas?"

"I can't go in?" His voice high and erratic.

"And why not?" Anna scowled.

"I'm a man. This is a woman's shop." He gestured to the mannequins in the window draped in a lady's maternity dress. "They'd shoo me away before the bell stopped ringing."

"Want me to come in with you?"

"I can't ask that." By doing so, could create gossip within their small community. Unfavourable gossip which would reflect badly on the both of them, more so Anna.

"I'm not worried." She'd gained some confidence having procured contraception on behalf of Lady Mary not too long ago. She linked her arm with his, tugging him in the direction of the door. He refrained, standing his ground. "You're about to have a baby. My guess is that you'll need to go in sooner or later."

"Does it have to be now?" He gulped.

"It's a better time as any. That child isn't going to wait for you to be ready." She raised a brow accusingly. "If somebody asks, I'll tell them it's me." She left and went in on her own, Thomas sighed shaking his head. He followed shortly after. "Do you have a list?" She asked.

"I-" He remembered suddenly, digging for his wallet and opening the notes compartment. He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, hurried scribbles read like hieroglyphs. Only he could make out his own handwriting. The note had been sitting in his wallet for a few months now after having read a book given to him by Dr Clarkson that he still had stashed under his mattress.

"You haven't checked anything off of your list." She said, voice raised.

"No. No. I haven't." He avoided her frustrated gaze, knowing that it was entirely his own fault for leaving things so late. Wind swept over his face and he closed his eyes to take in the fresh air.

"No matter, we can pick most of this up today." She said confidently. She looked positively determined which had Thomas a little worried but also relieved that something he'd pushed off could finally be lifted from his other burdens.

Sure enough, Anna scoured the entire store picking up things she believed totally necessary. By the end, when it came to paying, the total came to a substantial amount. He rubbed his face feeling rather helpless, having to turn over a large portion of his savings. He really had no idea just how expensive it really was to have a child.

Anna flipped through a furniture catalogue she'd picked up from the post office. "How do you feel about this one?" She pointed out to a gloss finished rocking crib. "Did you want to look after the little one yourself?"

"Haven't given it much thought," Thomas replied. After His Lordship's generous offer, he hadn't given much thought as to how involved he wanted to be in taking care of his baby. As it stood, the offer stipulated that his child could be watched by the nanny during the day and should he choose to, look after the baby on his own during the evening.

"I suppose you'll have to consider how you're going to feed the baby." Thomas ducked his head bashfully. Perhaps one of the most alarming developments which might have pushed him over the edge in seeking medical advice had been the expansion of his nipples. Not only did they become engorged but over time the nipples grew in size and turned a worrisome purple. They weren't magnificent in size, but they were far bigger than he could ever recognise. "Oh." Anna smiled. "In that case, you might want to decide after it's born. Not everybody can feed naturally."

Thomas was far too bashful to respond, "You should get one just encase. We'll have a closer look later on." She rolled the catalogue and shoved it into her handbag. "Here, let me carry that." She gasped, noticing the handfuls of bags that Thomas had been carrying.

"I've got it." He tightened his grip on the bags in his hands as Anna reached out to claim them.

"You know what they say about heavy lifting." She persuaded.

"I'm no sap." Thomas needed to retain his naturally chivalrous nature. Having a woman carry his bags would make him feel even more emasculated, especially after the nature of their latest conversation.

"Okay, well you'll let me know when you get tired." She understood just how fragile Thomas' emotions were right now, but she hadn't realised exactly the extent until Thomas stopped mid-stride and began to quietly sob behind one hand. "Whatever's the matter?"

"I'm losing my mind is all," The tears turned into light laughter. "I'm not enjoying this." His emotions got the best of him sometimes despite knowing how ridiculous it was to cry over nothing or matters trivial. He wiped the tears as quickly as they came until eventually, they stopped altogether.

"You'll be alright, nobody should feel embarrassed about showing emotion. It's okay to have a good cry sometimes." She comforted. 

Back at the house Mary and Matthew were taking a walk through the gardens. The topic of conversation that dominated each time had been their inability to conceive. Mary was beginning to worry, having been married for just over six months, she felt hopeless. Matthew was her rock, keeping her optimistic through her troubles.

"It shouldn't be this hard, maybe there's something wrong?"

"We've talked about this, sometimes couples wait years for a baby." She fell quiet. "Speaking of, I heard that one of your footmen had a rather nasty accident. I've been meaning to ask how he'd been getting on since then." He knew Thomas by name, having screamed it in more ways than one.

"Thomas? Oh, he's fine. Better than fine. Thinking about it he's rather blessed..." Mary hadn't considered her own jealousy. At the moment she'd been genuinely happy for Thomas, the one who always came across particularly lonely. Thomas was particularly lucky, in comparison. He'd likely gotten pregnant on the first and presumably only attempt, while she was stuck worrying about her future.

"How so?" He queried, his wife looking more upset.

"You're my husband, and I suppose the others will find out eventually. You must promise for it to not leave our marriage." She put sternly. She herself had made a promise to keep the truth a secret, so if it got out she'd feel particularly bad Thomas suffered

"You can trust me, with anything." He answered sincerely.

"You may choose not even to believe me, it does seem so absurd." Mary winced, trying to fashion a delicate way to phrase the truth.

"Are you waiting for my heart to give out from curiosity?"

"Well, he's been knocked up." Mary laughed innocently whilst Matthew's head exploded with memories. His and Thomas' first kiss, the first time they made love, and each and every time thereafter until the last time. It was then that his heart jumped into his throat with crippling anxiety.

"Explain." He choked out, desperate for more information.

"Exactly what I said. He's been hiding it for months now, I'm not sure how looking at him now... he's gigantic." A loop replayed in his mind, it told of guilt and culpability upon hearing that he was a few months far gone, he knew the child was his, without a doubt.

"What is to become of him?" Matthew wasn't sure as to what he'd like to have done with Thomas. With a selfish mindset, he'd prefer Thomas be fired and thrown out to guard their secret, but a pang of compassion for an old flame would have him think otherwise. The person carrying his seed, somebody he foolishly fell for shouldn't be treated in such a way.

"Nothing. Papa has taken to him rather kindly. It does seem rather odd, but father is full of surprises recently." She chuckled.

"How's Thomas dealing with it all?"

"I've only just found out. He seems put together, although quite lonely I'm sure. I certainly wouldn't want to be going through it alone."

"Yes..." He diminished. "Yes."

"I'm heading into London tomorrow, it'll only take a few days." Mary mentioned. She'd actually been seeing a doctor in London and was going this time to have a simple procedure to correct something within her uterus. It would hopefully give her a chance to conceive. After all of her dread and worry, it still wasn't over. "I'm seeing my aunt." She lied.

"Right." He muttered, distracted. Mary was somewhat annoyed with how little Matthew cared.

"So, have you thought of any names?" She asked, distracting Thomas from his emotions.

"Not exactly. I'll probably name it something traditional like George or Elizabeth." If it wasn't for how cripplingly sick smoking made him, he'd have rushed through two cigarettes by now, in effort to calm himself down.

"You can, or you could pick a name more exotic?" Thomas laughed, of all things, he wouldn't consider himself to have a flare for the exotic.

"I appreciate you doing this for me. I don't know anyone else who would." He said appreciatively. Not a single soul would care enough or put themselves out in the same way Anna had. There was a time when he considered himself to be popular, most of the women of the house would swoon at his good looks, but it was shallow.

"It's no bother, really. You may not want to believe it; I care about you." She grinned. "Now, I don't want to rush you if you're not ready to head back, but I've got a long list waiting for me"

"I didn't mention it earlier, but Lady Mary knows. She ambushed me last night."

"I'm afraid that could have been me. I might have mentioned that Mr Carson had you working in the cellar. I had no idea that-"

"Couldn't throw a blanket over this, could I?" He admitted circling his stomach with his right hand, astonished to have kept things hush- hush for this long.

"I hate to agree. If His Lordship knows, then Her Ladyship definitely does. No doubt Matthew now knows your secret too, but he's a decent man, it'll be safe with him. That just leaves-" Anna stopped upon hearing an audible exhale. "Is everything alright?" She observed as Thomas' life drained from his body. "Was it something I said?"

Thomas felt familiar sharp cramping that he'd felt before in the week leading to his accident. He recognized it as stress and so started to focus on his breathing. It was completely predictable that Matthew was to find out the truth, but he was entirely prepared for that turn of events. "Peachy." He nodded.

"Do you need me to run to Dr Clarkson?" She panicked.

"No, no. I'm alright." The initial fight-or-flight was fading and with it the pain. What did remain were the heavy palpitations.

"Don't you scare me like that." She huffed, "you ought to take things slow from now on."

"I'm sitting down, does it get any slower than this?" He joked, stretching himself around the arched back of the bench. He took another loud exhale and breathed in the calm.

"Oh, you know what I mean." She nudged him playfully. Stress, something she'd always assumed rebounded from the man, was hitting him hard. Dangerous to him and the baby. Anna did, however, find it all too curious as to why Matthew's name triggered such a reaction. Given Matthew's outwardly nice nature, she didn't automatically assume the worst. She was smart enough not to press or ask questions with Thomas the way he was. Instead, she picked up his share of the bags, and Thomas didn't argue this time. "Let's go."


	8. Risk

**_Please be warned, this chapter does contain NON-CON ELEMENTS TOWARDS THE END! You have been warned!_**

Anna and Thomas walked back to Downton. Thomas took back his bags and left for his room. He began emptying and inspecting their contents. For most things he pulled out, it was his first time seeing. Having left the duty to shop with Anna, he had very little input in what his money went towards. Mostly everything he could account for, blankets, nightgowns, bonnets, and rags. The big things like a cot and changing table would have to be ordered from a catalog or crafted from a local carpenter. He wouldn't have to worry about such things now or at least until he moved rooms.

It was just past lunch when he decided to ponse a spot of lunch from Mrs Patmore. This time he came out in an oversize woolen jumper, something cozy and comfortable. He squeezed passed some of the maids who had already begun preparing for the dinner. "What's all this?" Thomas remarked, filling a kettle full of water.

"Don't you dare, take two steps back." She ordered. Thomas instantly put the kettle down onto the hob and took a stride backward, not yet having lit the burner. "The kitchen is jammed tight as it is." She looked scattered, overwhelmed by a feat.

"The Queen coming?" Thomas asked sarcastically.

"Don't be daft. It's Lady Edith's birthday."

"Ahh, I just wanted some lunch." Thomas sucked in as much as he could as people made their way around him. He could help but feel like an iceberg in the chaos. He eventually took the initiative and squeezed his way out of harm's way.

Mrs Patmore sighed heavily, she couldn't help but feel pity as Thomas stood, arms folded across his chest waiting for his scraps. "There is some left-over corn beef sandwiches under the dish," She commandeered a mixing bowl from Daisy and asked, "Daisy, make some tea."

"I can-" Thomas protested.

"Just sit there and look pretty, will you?" She pointed quite harshly with a wooden spoon to the chair over by the fire. Thomas didn't stop to think twice as he lowered himself down into the plush fabric.

Daisy handed Thomas a plate full of sandwiches, "How are you feeling today?"

"Well, thank you, Daisy." He muttered through a mouthful; the edges of the bread had been slightly crispy but he was too hungry to care. Daisy waited for the water to scream before making some tea. "The whole family coming?"

"Most of them." Daisy placed a cup and a saucer of milk on the small table at Thomas's feet.

"Mr Carson will be busy no doubt." He wasn't bitter or anything – or maybe he was. It couldn't be helped. Feeling pretty redundant now had him in a slump but of course he understood that going upstairs was not an option whilst he was pregnant.

Mrs Patmore had been all too quick to call her back just as soon as she was done. "Enough chit chat, this cake isn't going to cook itself."

"Sorry." Daisy hurried back.

Thomas had taken an extraordinarily long nap, right in front of the fire. His insomnia was terrible at the moment, in the last few weeks he could count on one hand the number of nights that he'd fallen asleep and stayed asleep. Therefore, naps were essential. He'd woken up just as the dinner rush was starting, and already Carson looked like he'd worked up a sweat.

It was odd to be observing rather than participating, seeing the others in their smart liveries and what looked like a hall boy standing there with shaky hands. Thomas stood up and stretched, arching his back. Carson glared at him, temper rising. "What are you doing just standing around, and why aren't you dressed?" He shouted.

Thomas took a moment to look behind his shoulder after all Carson couldn't have been barking orders like that to him. "Charlie..." Mrs Hughes nudged the old man. Carson had forgotten himself.

"Right, yes." He coughed awkwardly, having now come to his senses. "As you were." He replied.

"Thomas laid a palm across his stomach and walked towards the table, "I can help you take the food upstairs, nobody will see me if they're all in the dining room."

"No, no. Definitely not." As much as he needed help, he was far too proud to admit so. "It's far too risky, besides, I'm sure Mrs Patmore could use your help down here."

"Let the boy help." Mrs Hughes stated boldly, "there's no harm."

Carson would have argued back had it not been for his undying respect for his companion. "Fine." He grumbled. "Only as far as the resting area, and nothing too heavy, I can't have you dropping anything," Carson said bitterly. "Go and get your jacket."

He did as he was told, Thomas grabbed his smart jacket and checked himself out in the mirror. The jacket didn't compliment his casual sweater vest, and his hair was a little ruffled from the nap, but he had to remind himself that he wasn't going to be serving the family. His stomach stuck out far past where his jacket could cover, which made him well up slightly. He coughed loudly, his hormones were not going to get the better of him right now.

Back at the kitchen, he was handed a platter to carry up the stairs, strategically in the middle of the parade as to not draw any attention. "Nice waddle." James laughed.

"No matter how big I get, I'll still kick your ass." Thomas joked, but not really. He was scrappy and his hormones could be a lethal driver.

"Never had a fight with a hippo before." James poked.

"Was that supposed to be funny? Must have just forgotten to laugh." Thomas took no offense to the banter, if anything, he'd missed it. James responded with a sarcastic belly roll.

Thomas assisted with the dinner service as much as he could, helping bring food upstairs and take empty plates back down again. It was the most useful he'd felt in days. The only downside, seemingly, would be his tired feet at the end of the night. He retired to his room for some much-needed rest.

His door was ajar. It was obvious even from a distance. Everybody he knew was still in the dining hall or tending to the family upstairs. He was in no condition to fight off any intruders Instead, he approached expecting to have to yell at somebody to leave, being in his personal space uninvited. With confidence, he swung open the door, it slammed a little too hard against the stopper behind him and rebounded backward.

A small chuckle came from the right corner of the room, "I suppose I shouldn't laugh, but it's just…you haven't changed a bit." Bile rose up Thomas' throat at the familiar voice. With his back to Matthew the entire time, he closed the door. Frustrated, he rested his forehead on the wood. He refused to turn around and be civil with the man who ruined his life. "I just had to come and see for myself whether the rumor was true." Matthew hated to be ignored, so Thomas' prolonged silence drove him crazy. "How long had you known, and kept it a secret? Serving at my dinner table."

"It doesn't matter." He slipped up beside Thomas, hands gliding up his arms. Coming in closer, whispered, "Haven't you missed me?" His breath tickling Thomas' neck. "Turn around, let me get a look at you." His sensual touch turned into a tight grip as he flipped Thomas around.

Thomas reverted to the frightened child that he'd reduced himself to during their last interaction. He had his eyes drawn tightly shut and head facing the other direction. Knees trembling as Matthew laid a hand on his stomach, over their baby.

"On the night of your incident, I was in London – seeing a doctor. You see, Mary and I are having a hard time conceiving. This doctor told me not to worry, that a Crawley baby was imminent. How right he was." Matthew gazed Thomas' cheek with his thumb. "This is marvelous, you are marvelous." Matthew admired.

Curious as to how Thomas' new body felt, he crept a hand up underneath Thomas' jumper and shirt. The skin soft and smooth which made Matthew hum with excitement. Nosey hands explored the roundness of Thomas' stomach and eventually crept up further to cup the small milk-filled breasts that weren't there on the night of conception. Helpless, he let Matthew explore at his own will. Like nothing hand changed.

Matthew's hand dug its way passed Thomas' waistline and into his underwear. If he were brave enough to defend himself, he'd have done so long ago. Instead, he retreated to the happy place in his mind that'd been vacant for quite some time in order to escape the humiliation. A combination of jerking and stimulating his nipples had him reach climax, with each shudder of his body came a new level of self-loathing.

"I've missed you." Thomas knew that what Matthew wanted to say was, that he missed this – the abuse. "I want you to know, all the while I am to inherit this house, you and our child will always have a home. Although, if Lady Mary were to find out of the secret of its birth…" He began. "You don't have to say a thing, I believe we have a mutual understanding." Matthew wiped his hands on a hand towel hanging on Thomas' radiator, his fingers had become sticky with ejaculant and colostrum.

Hands clean, he cupped their baby and lent in for a kiss. Thomas edged his head, trying to avoid Matthew's lips. It hadn't worked as Matthew chased his target. The kiss was cold, forceful and empty. After everything between them, he could always guarantee that Matthew's kisses were passionate and longing, even that had changed. There was nothing between them anymore.

Matthew left, and Thomas angrily threw a fist at the wall several times until his rage subsided into tears. Sliding down the wall and to the floor. He sobbed loudly and full of pain. Thomas wallowed in his own foolishness, having yet again been taken advantage of and been too soft to defend himself. It was stupid, he was stupid. It wasn't too long ago that he'd rescued James from being mugged, putting himself in harms way for a man who didn't even care for him. Yet, when matters of Matthew were involved, he turned into a weak mess. There was something about his soft skin, beautiful blue eyes, and lustrous voice that made it impossible to hate him despite the monster that lived within.

Matthew now knew his secret, and there was little that he could do to prevent Matthew from seeing their child after it was born. If he were to live in the same house, just staircases apart, then he might have to accept his fate.

A subtle knock interrupted his moment of self-pity. He rubbed the runny snot from its position hanging below his nose and sniffed hard. "Thomas, are you alright? I heard your banging on the wall." Mr Bates asked, concerned.

He coughed to clear his throat, "go back to bed Mr Bates, please." He tried to maintain a normal voice, despite the lump rising in the back of his throat. "I know you mean well." He continued, not wanting to sound entirely ungrateful for the uncharacteristic outreach.

"So long as you're sure." Bates had a bad feeling about Thomas' mood. He'd only caught a glimpse of somebody a little further down the hall, through the windowpane in the door. Whoever it may have been, he could assume that the ruckus was their doing. For the rest of the night, or until he eventually fell asleep, he kept a close ear out on the landing, making sure that nobody else was coming or going during the night.

Meanwhile, Thomas spent the entire night crying, taking breaks periodically to throw up. He'd felt so sad and dirty. The following days were just as emotional. He wasted three days in his pajamas, wrapped in his blanket. Most of the day he'd been isolated in his room, still feeling sick. Those whom he came into contact with on his trips to the bathroom only noticed his bloodshot eyes, pale skin, and swollen cheeks.


	9. Heartfelt Tears

I just wanted to establish that Anna and Bates are already married. They are just moving into the matrimonial home now! Just to make things easier, as I haven't included their wedding or anything like that. It's a short chapter but bare with, more is on the way!

Chapter Text

Anna had been distracted, she and Mr. Bates had just moved into their matrimonial home. Her mind had been consumed by cleaning and making the place feel like home. She hadn't been around very much, and Miss O'Brien took over her duties. Her first day back to her full duties, Anna had gotten worried later on in the afternoon when Thomas hadn't reached out for food. Just encase he might be hungry, she brought him some vegetable soup and a few crusty rolls. She took a tray up to his room, accompanied by Carson who kept watch as she entered the men's corridor. When Thomas didn't respond to her knocking, she'd hoped that he was just asleep, trying to work off whatever it was that had stricken him so suddenly. She left the tray outside the door and went back to her duties.

"I'm worried about him." Anna confided in her partner.

"As much as it pains me to admit it, I am as well." He couldn't help but feel that his actions today were the result of something that he'd missed a few nights before.

"Oh?" Anna replied, eyebrows raised.

"I didn't think it was important at the time, but nights ago, I saw a man…he must have been leaving the men's corridor." He paused, trying to place the details together, "Not moments before, I'd heard a loud thump on the wall. When asked what was the matter, Thomas seemed off."

"I would hate to raise speculation, but I'm sure I know the identity of the mystery man." She told her husband anxiously.

"Do tell."

"Well, if I'm right, it might be a giveaway as to who the father is you see...Lady Mary knows, and Master Crawley found out only that very morning. When I told Thomas what had happened, he began to panic, experiencing the same pain as before."

Bates sighed, he seemed underwhelmed and unsurprised. "Sounds like you're right to assume. I can only wonder what had happened between them, should that really be true. You don't think His Lordship knows, which is why he's been so lenient on Thomas?"

"Regardless of motive, I'm just glad that he's got somewhere to stay." Anna shrugged off the suspicion. All that mattered was that Thomas wasn't on the streets or staying in a dirty hovel. Somewhere warm, surrounded by at least one person who cared was particularly important. "I'll check on him again after dinner, maybe I can get him to talk."

"I don't know what he has done to deserve your friendship." Bates sighed. Anna's primary flaw was being too kind. Although, that was probably the thing he loved about her the most. Defending him, staying by his side from the very beginning.

"Shush you. It doesn't cost anything to be nice." She smiled cheekily clicking her heels as she went.

The second time she delivered Thomas a meal, Mr. Carson left her to her own devices. Being far too busy to babysit, he trusted her to fetch him once she'd finished. Perhaps he too cared somewhat about Thomas, not having seen him all day. He wouldn't so much as pass on the message but would give Anna whatever time she needed to get the job done.

This time she took him a few slices of roast chicken and potatoes, with carrots and broccoli. She also had with her a piece of bread and butter pudding, one of the man's favorites. She looked with concern at the tray left at the door, its contents largely untouched. All that was missing was an apple and a single breast roll. Nudging it aside to make room in the doorway should she be turned away again.

"Thomas, it's me, Anna. I've brought you Sunday lunch." She knocked with her heel as her hands were full. "I saved you some of the best trimmings, even some gravy." She enticed.

"You didn't have to. I'd have come to dinner if I was hungry."

"Something tells me that isn't quite true." She replied, "whatever it is, I'm here if you need a word. Nothing goes away on its own you know?"

Thomas reluctantly opened his door far enough to poke his head through, "Don't worry about me. See I'm fine." He gave her a fake toothy smile before closing the door. She had wedged the tip of her shoe in the small space to prevent Thomas from shutting her out. "I told you-"

"Your eyes are all red, and your skin is pale." She noted, "the baby has to eat." The guiltiest card that she could play.

"A few days isn't going to hurt." He snapped back.

"You've left me with very little choice," she announced before breaking her way in. Thomas had been too sleep-deprived and hungry to use any force. Astonishingly, she made her way past the threshold with not a thing lost or dropped. She placed the tray on Thomas' dressing table, "I'll have to stay and watch you finish your tea."

"I'm not hungry." It was an insanely obvious lie. His appetite was huge this far into his pregnancy, and his stomach had been gargling for hours.

"Do I have to feed you myself?" She threatened. "Either that or you can tell me what's really going on?" she prompted with an ultimatum. "I can see that you're upset. Ever since that park bench-" She trailed off, not sure if it would overstep the boundaries by stating what was on her mind.

"You win. I'Il eat. Does that make you feel better?" Thomas asked stabbing a gravy-soaked roast potato with his fork. He longed for food, but he would let his own personal pleasure detract from the point he was trying to make.

His avoidance spoke volumes, "You don't have to say a word, I know this has something to do with Master Crawley." She finished. She braced for impact as Thomas' fists clenched and when the fork hit the tray the clank made her jump. Despite his condition, she was still perhaps a little afraid.

Instead of flipping the table and going on a rampage like he felt was bubbling up. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down. One thing that he'd learned over the last few days was that stress came with agonising consequence. "What Mr. Bates heard was-" He began, breath shaking with fermenting rage.

When Thomas hadn't exploded, Anna felt confident to dig a little further, "Thomas, did He hurt you, is that what Mr. Bates beard?" Thomas' reaction had been enough to confirm her suspicions.

"I don't want to-" Thomas broke down. This had been the second time in her entire time of knowing this man, that she'd seen him cry, only a few days apart.

"It was my fault. If I hadn't had pushed Lady Mary-" She stuttered, she too beginning to well with sadness. "Maybe this wouldn't have happened." Riddled with guilt, her lips quivered.

"No. It's not you, it's me!" Thomas snapped, angrily pointing at himself with self-loathing. He couldn't bare Anna blaming herself for his own failings for she was the most compassionate to grace this earth. "Whenever he walks through that door…" He breathed shakily, "I'm weak, I'm not strong enough to fight back." His voice broke amidst the tears. Ordinarily, his scrappy nature meant that he took no harassment, not from anyone, it meant if the situation arose he would fight his way out. Why he was so defenseless was beyond him, but he could hardly blame it on his pregnancy.

"You shouldn't have to fight at all. Thomas, he's an evil man and must be stopped." If not to stop the violence but to protect those around him like Lady Mary who didn't deserve to find out Matthew's true nature the way Thomas had.

"There's nothing I can do. Not without everybody finding out. I'll be on the street before the night's over." Service workers are easily replaced, and to avoid a scandal at Downton, Thomas would be paid off and sent on the next train going anywhere. The sweet deal he'd been given could be revoked without warning.

"We have to talk to Lady Mary." Anna protested. "For her welfare."

"The family needs him or they'll lose Downton." Essentially, the fate of Downton rested in his hands. Should Lady Mary divorce Matthew, there would be little doubt that the family would be sequestered off of the estate. Lady Mary needed to stay married and produce an heir for the sake of the entire village. It would be selfish to threaten the status quo. "You need to promise me that it stays between us."

She had been caught between too hard places; protecting Lady Mary or protecting Thomas and his unborn child. Thomas' desperate eyes incidentally solved her conundrum, "maybe you're right?" she sighed. Ultimately after tonight, she would be keeping a closer eye on the blooming Crawley marriage for any signs of change. "I'll drop this for now, but with the promise that you'll let me know if he touches you again?" Thomas was too emotional to respond, instead, Anna lightened the mood a little, "please eat. You don't know how many hands I had to swat away to save you that grub."

"I'm sorry that you've been put in the middle of this mess."

"Never you mind." She smiled, trying to reassure her newfound friend.


	10. Everybody Has a Plan

Hi all, I feel like I'm coming at this from a weird angle. Let me know in the comments if this is still making sense to you all! I hope it does.

Anna left him to eat in peace and gave the keys back before retiring for home. She would confide in her husband over a cup of tea, she trusted him completely. Together, they would concoct a plan to keep the young man safe. The two had just moved into the little cottage not too far from the house. It was large enough for the two of them and just the right size for when they started a family. It came pre-furnished with everything they could possibly want; a bed and it's sheets, crockery and dinnerware, curtains, and sofas and much more. It was homely, but should they want to – if that time came, they weren't tied to the house and could move on if they so choose.

Mr Bates took his wife's coat and hat and hung them by the door as she began the tea. She had been rather quiet on the matter, just telling him that it was a conversation for the security of their own four walls. "Was it as we feared?" He asked walking into the kitchen.

"Far worse." She spoke before lifting the hob.

"I can see, it's got you troubled." Mr Bates shuffled through the cupboards, grabbing two cups and two saucers. He set them out on the table with care. "How much worse could it possibly be?"

"Well, Mr Crawley apparently isn't quite finished with Thomas. You were right hearing what you heard the other night." She phrased.

"He's a married man, and in Thomas' condition? It makes me sick." He replied angrily. "How was he, when you spoke with him?" He asked, concerned from the moment he'd heard the commotion.

"He's quite obviously shaken up. He blames himself in all this, which is the worst of it all." Anna sighed. "This is supposed to be one of the happiest times that any person can go through, and..." She trailed off, her own troubles starting a family had begun creeping into their married life. "It's not fair."

"Thomas can't even go to the police, or he'd be at risk of being thrown into jail." Mr Bates added, the accumulation of Thomas' dire situation was enough to make anybody frustrated, even just hearing so. "Mr Carson ought to know. He can protect Thomas, regardless of his views on the pregnancy."

"No. Thomas swore me to secrecy." Anna hushed, pouring the tea.

"Then why are you telling me?" He smiled, "you have a plan?" He could interpret his wife's grin to be her scheming beautiful brain in action.

"Yes, I do. I can't stay idle knowing that Thomas is in so much pain." Anna replied earnestly. "And despite your differences, I know that you can't either."

His wife was right, regardless of the chequered past between Thomas and himself, his strong moral compass wouldn't allow turning a blind eye to such injustices. "Go on."

"I'm thinking, if we make it impossible for Master Crawley to visit, then maybe he'll stop coming?" She proposed.

"How do you expect we'll manage that?"

"For starters, we have to make sure that the door to the sleeping quarters is properly locked at all times. It's entirely possible that Mr Carson forgot to lock the door behind himself that night."

"Mr Carson wouldn't likely forget something like that, it's been a part of his routine for the last forty years."

"He's beginning to become quite forgetful in his old age, haven't you noticed?" Anna noted. Mr Carson had unknowingly been forgetful the last few months, getting worse as the year progressed. He was still majoritively sharp as a tick but sometimes you'd have to ask him twice or remind him of things that he ordinarily would have remembered. It was only the other day where Anna had told Mr Carson that she was heading out into town, and upon her return Mr Carson appeared quite frantic, concerned as to where she'd 'run off to'.

"He's stressed, a busy man. We are all absent-minded sometimes, are we not?" Bates argued, he didn't want to think that Carson was losing his marbles so soon. "I will make sure that the door is always locked." He returned to the matter at hand.

"And should you hear anything, I'm trusting you to make yourself known." After last time, any bump or thud would likely have Bates kicking down the door.

"Of course."

"And I will try and keep watch during the day." Whilst her primary concern was still Thomas, she couldn't help but worry about Lady Mary and what possibly went on while she wasn't around. Anna would like to think that her Ladyship was strong enough to fight back and defend herself, but as she has so learned, it's not always easy.

"As much as I do not like to scheme, I feel this time, it's necessary." Bates held his wife's hand tightly. He admired how lucky he was to have found somebody so obviously caring and humble. "This would mean moving back into the house."

"Unfortunately so, but it'll only be for a while." The two weren't used to their own space yet and really Downton still felt like home. Their married life would have to be put on the backburner for now. Lucky they loved each other so dearly and were entirely practiced in abstinence.

"I hope so." Mr Bates smiled, finishing his tea.

"We've only enjoyed one night in our new bed, I was hoping that we could spend one more night as husband and wife." She asked coyly. Matthew had slipped off to London with little word as to why which meant that Thomas was safe for now.

Meanwhile, back at the house, Thomas was having a bath. After a few days of isolation, he desperately needed to wash away his funk. He'd only been in the bath for all of five minutes before he felt himself drifting off to sleep. The warmth of the water had relaxed the aching muscles in his back and lulled him to sleep. He wasn't sure for exactly how long he'd been asleep for but it had been long enough to slip into a dream, of him drowning in a public pool. The water that surrounded him must have transferred to a rather lucid nightmare.

It was the abrupt act of the person outside the door, ferociously banging that startled him awake, gasping for air. "Can you hurry up in there?" Came the voice. Thomas didn't answer but the voice went away anyway. There was no telling how long they'd been waiting already.

He dipped his head under the water briefly before reaching for the soap. He cleaned the best he could before dunking his heavy body back under the water, washing away any bubbles. His stomach breached the surface of the water, like a glacier in the arctic. He hated how heavy he was already and just wished that it would be over.

He towel-dried and released the water putting on some pajamas before leaving. His t-shirt perhaps a little too tight only accentuated his curvature. As it turned out, it wasn't just one person wanting to use the bath but a handful of his colleagues. Lined up with their soap and sponges, all waiting for the fiend to show himself. His towel and a bundle of washing went into the washroom for the laundry maid in the morning.

Mr Carson had just finished his walk-around of the house, checking windows and doors were securely locked. Mrs Hughes had done the same. They met at the end by the kitchen, having seen Mrs Patmore off to bed. "Everything okay?" Mrs Hughes asked.

"I suppose that you could say that, although I am concerned about Barrow. He's been acting rather off the last few days." He hated to admit it but Thomas' behaviour was out of the ordinary and whilst he had been given some leeway, the boy had to return to work sooner or later.

"I meant with the house," She smiled, Mr Carson appeared slightly flustered it being out of character to open up as he did. "Have you spoken to him?" She asked, knowing that Carson really had been fishing for advice.

"Well...no." He grumbled.

"Don't you think you ought to?" Mrs Hughes rolled her eyes, sometimes, in her experience men needed to be told directly what to do. "He's a boy, not a leper."

"I didn't say that he was." He replied proudly.

"You sure act like it." Mrs Hughes watch Mr Carson plod away, no doubt to pay Mr Barrow a visit.

Carson contemplated turning back, fearing that men didn't need to talk about their issues. That troubles should he worked out alone. It was a spur of the moment impulse that drove him to eventually knock. He immediately regretted his confidence. He was set to walk away after a few empty seconds had passed, figuring that Thomas must have been asleep by now. "Mr Carson?" Thomas asked, only seeing the back of the man who had knocked on his door.

"Mr Barrow, I, erm..." He stuttered, venturing back. "I wanted to talk to you about your recent conduct." Carson finished. "Mrs Hughes is worried about you, is all." He deflected.

"I'm quite alright. I went through a difficult patch but I'm better now." Thomas was relieved to be telling the truth. Whilst there was some lingering personal torment, he was largely better. Feeling more motivated, less embarrassed and most importantly, well supported.

"So you'll be returning to work then?" Carson asked.

"I think so, yes."

"Good. I was planning on reducing your roles even further if you have no objections." The last few days have been a bit of a pinch, so keeping Thomas healthy was in the interests of everybody. Even if he spent the day polishing shoes, it meant that somebody else wouldn't have to.

"No. I suppose not."

"I realised before that there are things that you cannotdo and shouldnotbe doing." He accepted. "I will adjust the day accordingly. From now, you should wake up with the rest of us and finish your day by four o'clock, unless told otherwise." Lady Mary had given Carson quite the earache about Thomas using the ladder. Whilst he was angry that Lady Mary knew about the baby, it wasn't Thomas' fault.

Carson was sitting in his office decanting some wine, as he did a few times a week. He'd been concentrating before he'd heard the gentle knock on his door. Not wanting to disrupt the flow of his work or leave the wine uncorked for too long, he yelled, "Come in."

Lady Mary opened the door slightly and squeezed through before quickly shutting it behind herself. "Carson, I was wondering if I might have a word with you?" She asked. Carson had stopped immediately and stood to welcome his guest. "No please sit, I need to talk to you as my friend, not my butler."

"Of course." The two sat down, Lady Mary taking a seat on the opposite side of the desk, a seat usually reserved for those receiving a bolocking. "How can I help?"

"I wanted to let you know that I will be taking a trip into London sometime this week," She began.

"Very well, might I enquire as to the purpose of your trip?" He asked. Whilst Lady Mary had not confided in him as to why her mood had recently changed, he knew that she would eventually. He would often lend a friendly ear whenever she had a troubling problem.

"It's nothing of particular interest," She started. Her purpose had been rather personal and the journey she vowed, was one she would undertake alone, "I will be requiring transportation to the station, I have already booked my tickets," Mary breezed over the sentiment behind the trip.

Carson cleared his throat, not having believed the conversation would flow the way that it had. He respected her privacy beyond anything else and refused to press for information. "Is there anything else you wish to discuss with me, M' Lady?" He questioned, noticing Lady Mary still sitting comfortably.

Mary paused, wondering whether she had the nerve to bring the matter of controversy up so brazenly, "I know," She hinted.

"What do you know, My Lady?" Carson reiterated, obviously not having caught onto her train of thought.

"Of the scandal at Downton." She put playfully.

"I can assure you, I don't know what you mean." Carson denied. There was only one real scandalous scandal at Downton at this very moment but he'd taken proper precaution as to isolate such a problem from the family. It surely wasn't that scandal. It couldn't be, he assured himself.

"Don't play that game with me, I'm far more observant than I seem." Carson avoided all eye contact. "I ran into Mr Barrow, he's looking much better." Mary dangled. She had the upper hand and relished in the happiness it brought her. Carson's expression had been truth enough, mouth agape and stuttering slightly. "I take it that all the hush hush is father's idea?"

"With good cause, M'Lady." Carson he broke through the muted silence to defended Lord Grantham's actions, being of the same mind.

"I wonder when I was to know, what with the house being mine." She commented. "I don't have anything against the man, by any means." A twinge of jealousy is the extent of any ill will. "It was nice of Papa to keep him on." She smiled. "I find myself quite surprised actually." Mary let out a small chuckle, her father was by all means conservative to the core. His lenience was uncharacteristic coming from the same man who refused to see Sybil in trousers or have Edith write for the paper.

"Indeed." Carson agreed, too nice.

"The man looks exhausted," She changed the subject. "Perhaps you could go easy on him from now?" As lighthearted as it sounded, Mary intended for her words to have more impact in the way of an order rather than a simple suggestion.

"What would make you say that, M'Lady?" Carson felt somewhat threatened by the accusation.

"You can't possibly think he can carry on this way, I walked in on him climbing a ladder, a ladder. He could have fallen. His balance isn't what it used to be – in account of his -" She trailed off awkwardly. "I'm sure you understand."

Carson gulped. Whilst he wasn't directly aware of the incident in question, he could hardly deny putting the boy through more than he deserved at a time like this."You have my word, no more ladders." Lady Mary was right, the ladders stood for much more, and he would change his ways.

"I should hope so." She smiled.

"Really, I am more than capable-" Thomas began.

"Thomas -" Carson exhaled, skimming over how informally he just addressed his subordinate. "That is the last word on the matter." As begrudgingly as it was, he would have plenty of time to adjust to these new measures. Perhaps it was the little knowledge that he had on the pregnant anatomy, or how he resented Thomas for his past actions, and how they still desperately needed the ship to sail smoothly, all had Carson frustrated. It wasn't fair to take his frustration out on Thomas any longer. "Good night."

"Night, Mr Carson." Thomas found the entire interaction bizarre at best. Carson was a man of his word, and so Thomas had no reason not to trust his mentor, but he could hardly be optimistic about what lies ahead.


	11. This is Why

Sure enough, Thomas got up and ate with the others, and then Carson had him scrub the dishes shortly after. Dressed in an apron with he sleeves rolled to his elbows, his hands sloshed around in the hot soapy water. He scrubbed away at the pots and pans with a palm full of steel wool. Daisy continued this train by drying.

Mid-hotflash he wiped the sweat from his forehead with a dry part of his forearm. "The water's not that hot." Daisy laughed. "Do you want me to take over?" She followed up, seeing how worked up Thomas had gotten. "Here let's swap."

Hands in the hot water and his body raging with an unpleasant heat made him light headed. "Thank you, Daisy." He passed over the wool and in a mutual exchange Daisy handed him the towel. Being out of the water lowered his body temperature by a few degrees but he still remained far too warm. He undid his apron and removed his vest jumper before carrying on.

"Haven't seen you for a while. Everything alright?" She asked.

"Fine, nothing to worry about." He reassured.

"Good, 'cause me and the others were worried." She smiled. "I don't want to be rude or anything, but are you sure you're not having twins? Thing is, when my sister had her baby, she wasn't that big and there's no proper way to tell these things. I saw in the paper last week a woman had four babies and had no idea until she gave birth." Perhaps she felt too comfortable to blabber, but Thomas didn't mind. It was her usual nature and he was sure glad to see that back.

Thomas laughed, "You know Daisy, it's a reoccurring nightmare of mine." So far Dr Clarkson had only heard one heartbeat, and he himself has only felt one set of feet battering his ribcage. Thomas was sure that he'd struggle looking after one, let alone two or more.

"I don't know, you're going to be a great father, I just know it." For as long as she could remember, she'd had the biggest crush on Thomas. When she found out that he was gay that quickly changed, and she fell for the next handsome face. She saw in Thomas, what nobody else really did, she thought he was brave, thoughtful, and romantic.

"That means a lot," He wasn't mother material, that he knew. A deep cynic, spiteful, and somewhat of a loner – traits not suited to raising a child. If it wasn't for the amazing people surrounding him, the child would be doomed.

"How grand would it be if the baby were a girl?" She cooed, picturing herself squeezing a chubby lump of a tot between her arms. The child would be gorgeous.

"Not grand. Daisy, I don't know the first thing about girls." He had sisters, most younger than himself, and by the time they were old enough to get to know, he was heading off to start a life at Downton. No doubt they'd all go mental over the idea of Thomas baring them a niece, but he wasn't quite sure when he'd work up the courage to tell them. If he would at all.

"Girls are amazing, I'll help if you want." Daisy replied enthusiastically. "Anna will too of course. Imagine that, raising somebody to be as kind as that."

"Why thank you, Daisy." Anna strode in conveniently.

"It's only the truth." Daisy exclaimed.

"Nice to see you up and about, feeling better?" She rubbed Thomas' arm softly.

"Thanks to you." Thomas said with appreciation. He could only assume that it would have taken him far longer to break out of his depressive episode all by himself. All the while putting his body and the baby under considerable stress. He knew now, that above all else, his wellbeing was of fundamental important.

Later on that night, Anna and Bates returned to their matrimonial home. This would be for the last time for a while. They packed their bags and headed back to the house.

Mrs Hughes was doing a final inspection of the pantry and the kitchen before going to bed. She double checked the locks on the doors and that nothing of value had been left out. She jumped in her spot upon hearing the backdoor bell chiming. By her count all those that lived in the house were accounted for, and it'd be incredibly strange for a visitor to drop by at this late hour. She thought twice before opening the door, "it's you two!"

"Sorry for coming back so late." Anna apologised. They weren't expecting to stay so long at home, and made every effort to return to the house before the doors were locked. Mr Bates carried two bags through the door and dumped them on the floor.

"You two have your own home now, you don't need to stop by." Mrs Hughes replied sarcastically gesturing at the bags.

"The hot water is gone. We won't be able to get it fixed until we can call someone out until Monday." Anna lied. "So, if it's alright with you, we could stay for a few nights?"

"Of course. You'll have to abide by the rules of the house and sleep separately." Mrs Hughes was somewhat suspicious. Anna knew how to boil water to wash, she had been doing so for many years. Still, she didn't question their intentions. "Your bedrooms have been made up. Mr Bates, you'll have to catch up with Mr Carson, he's on his way to the gents corridor."

Seemingly just in time, this way Bates could affirm that the door was definitely locked tight before going to bed. Whilst he didn't want to believe that Carson would forget to, it couldn't have hurt to check, just encase.

"Mr Bates, what do I owe the pleasure?" Carson asked, seconds away from locking the door.

"We have no hot water at the house, Anna and I will be staying here until it's fixed. Assuming that it's okay with you?" Carson raised a brow, he could hardly say no considering the man was standing at his feet with his suitcases in hand.

"Of course, now, please go and get settled." Carson nudged, holding open the door.

"Good night, Mr Carson." Bates greeted as he stopped outside his bedroom. Carson simply smiled in acknowledgment before taking his leave.

Thomas, hearing the voices from outside of the door peeked out noisily. "Bates? I'd have thought not even an earthquake would pull you away from your new marital home." He joked, only knowing too well how eager the couple had been to live with one another.

"No hot water." Was Bates only response to Thomas' innuendo. Bates smiled before entering his room. Thomas hardly believed the excuse, but had little reason to think any differently. So he too retreated back into his room.

It was just gone half past twelve when he'd heard it, footsteps on the landing, soft and barely audible to anybody not purposefully listening. The footfalls were followed by a rattling of the door at the end of

the hall, the person on the other side growing frustrated by somebody's due diligence. Mr Bates heard a

weary sigh. The footsteps then grew further away. The Perpetrator had been defeated for now.

Matthew and Mary were having a hard time settling in, Matthew had arrived up late for bed, after a seemingly unsuccessful attempt to see Thomas. All he'd wanted to do was stop by and give the man a gift, something that he'd acquired in London, a token to display his appreciation for carrying their child. Mary had already gotten undressed and was sitting in bed waiting for her husband to retire for the night. Reading kept her company until eventually Matthew crept into the room.

"Oh, you're awake." Matthew smiled. His demeanour went from sleuth to loving husband.

"I am." She put her book down. "I'm not sure that I would have been for much longer."

"I'm sorry, I couldn't pull away from your father." Matthew lied. He began to undress, putting his jacket and waistcoat on a hanger and filled them away in the wardrobe. He made his way over to his wife, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "I've missed you."

"We were only apart for three days." Mary grinned.

"Is it not possible to miss the person I love from the moment they aren't by my side?" Mary blushed, her husband was such a romantic. Matthew stroked away the hair on her cheek to cup it with his hand. He pulled her in close for a loving smooch. "Have you not missed me?" He whispered.

"Perhaps." She replied coyly. He kissed her again, knowing that she was far from the affectionate type. "Please, not tonight. I'm tired." She held his hand and avoided his lips. "It's rather late."

"Are you feeling okay?" He asked, "there's nothing wrong?"

"No, I'm just tired. Perhaps tomorrow?" She smiled through her husband's disheartened face.

"I have some indigestion, I'm going to take a walk." He stood up off of the bed. He felt as though his wife was avoiding him, that she had something to tell him but wouldn't. It upset him, but he loved her regardless. So he kissed the top of her head, "please, go to sleep. I won't be long." He smiled.

"Hurry back." She replied.

Matthew grabbed his dressing gown from the hook on the back of the door on his way out. In the pocket he stashed the gift, hiding it encase he were to run into anybody on route. The entire way to the service corridor he held on tightly to this gift, anticipating the reaction as soon as it could he handed sleep. He wanted to try his luck, once more. Perhaps Carson's office door had been left unlocked and the set of keys were somewhere obvious. He had to try.

Upon arrival, he reached for the handle, he jiggled and bumped the door expecting it to he open. With no light under the door he knew that Carson had not been as neglectful this time round. He returned to his bedroom, frustrated. "You're back?" Mary murmured half asleep.

"I am, stay asleep." He whispered.

"Are you feeling better?" She asked.

"Not quite." He replied. Matthew stripped off and into some pyjamas before slipping under the duvet. Mary nestled in closely, draping an arm over her husband's torso.

"You'll feel better in the morning." She yawned.

All Matthew did that night was scheme. Cogs turning, synapses spiralling, planning how he would do better tomorrow. Determined to steal the key sometime before lights out, sneak up into the service corridor and unlock the door. Tonight night have been a waste of time, but this frustration only transferred into willingness.


	12. A Plan in Motion

Mary woke first the following morning, she was never one to sleep through the morning. Once the sun was up, she was ready to start the day. She turned to the body lying beside her, still fast asleep. She touched his lip gently, longing to kiss his subtle lips as he slept. Her actions stopped, admiring her husband lovingly. She rolled out of bed and slipped on her slippers. She went to grab her own dressing gown from the door when upon unhooking it, Matthew's became dislodged and fell upon the floor. As it fell, a small box rolled from a pocket. She picked it up to admire it, reading the tag attached to the bow, 'to the mother of my child.' She gasped. Matthew wasn't to know of her trips to London and the procedure.

Mary began to feel guilty for how she had neglected Matthew the night before. She began to wonder whether he had indented to hand her a gift in a romantic moment, that she had perhaps spoiled for the two of them. She quickly scooped up the garment and popped the gift back in the pocket. She would happily wait for whatever Matthew had planned than ruin the surprise.

She met Anna in the hallway, her face glowing with excitement. "I was just coming to check up on you M'Lady." Anna greeted.

"No need, Matthew is still sleeping. I don't think he slept well last night, it's best to let him rest." Mary began.

"You look awfully happy this morning." Anna smiled, feeding on her friend's energy.

"Very happy. If you wouldn't mind running me a bath, I'd like to wash up before breakfast." Mary would hope that her husband would be awake by the time she had gotten out, so the two of them could get dressed together before heading down.

"Not a problem." Anna ran Lady Mary a bath and laid out a fresh towel and bathrobe. When the water had stopped she called out and Lady Mary got in. Anna took this time to begin the search for her husband who she had been missing dearly.

On the stairwell down to the service corridor, she conveniently almost bumped into Mr Bates looking to come up the opposite way. "There you are, I've been meaning to ask how last night went." Anna jumped the gun, eager to find out whether their sacrifice was worth the effort.

"Good morning to you as well." He stole a kiss from his wife's busy lips.

She blushed, "I'm sorry, just anxious is all."

"That's okay, I've just missed us waking up together." Even though they'd only had this practice for a few days, not having the touch of another person in the bed beside him, was a lonely experience. One he didn't particularly want to keep up with.

"I feel the same." Anna took her husband's hand, "how did it go last night?"

"Somebody tried to gain access to our corridor. The door was securely locked, so whoever it was left shortly after." Bates would have hated to think about what could have happened had he not checked the lock and the door had been open. "Something tells me that this will not be the last attempt."

"What are you two doves squawking about?" Thomas interpreted.

"Mind your own, you." Anna joked.

"How are you today Thomas, sleep well?" Bates asked, "you didn't hear anything odd down the hall, did you?"

"Like a ghost, you mad?" He hardly slept knowing that Matthew had returned home from London. He had been expecting a visit. Thomas had given up on his efforts to sleep and sat on the edge of his bed, his anxiety irritating the baby, he couldn't help but circle his stomach to calm the kicks. He wasn't entirely sure when he'd fallen asleep, but all he remembered was waking up this morning at the bottom of the bed, curled up.

"A ghost?" Daisy chimed in.

"No, there is no ghost. Pay no attention, Daisy." Bates dispelled. For Daisy was far too impressionable for him to not protect her. The young girl would be afraid of her own shadow by the end of the day if Thomas were to continue.

"Oh, I don't know about that Bates, this is an old house, the walls talk, haven't you heard, that Mr. Pamuk fella has come back from the dead." Daisy gasped. That name brought back sobering memories. Thomas smiled cheekily, Daisy was gullible, and the fright on her face was rewarding enough.

"That's enough, Thomas." Bates put a stop to the joke, considering its disrespectful roots.

"Thomas, what are the other signs? Flickering lights, cold chills?" Daisy queried in a panicked voice.

"Why? Have you seen somethin'?" Thomas questioned, displaying an exuberated fake interest. When Daisy became flustered, he couldn't help but laugh.

"Please, let's talk no more of these womanly fears. Breakfast is ready." Bates glared up at Thomas as the younger man wondered towards the dining room.

"We're just having a laugh." Thomas added, "right Daisy?" Thomas took a seat around the table. Carson kept his eye on Thomas but said nothing. It was clear that his 'punishment' was not quite over, but it seemed to be getting better – or rather Carson had begun to accept their current position as reality.

"Yeah…" She stuttered, "I know that ghosts aren't real." She bluffed.

He was up early, early enough not to be noticed by anybody. Matthew had devised a cunning plan, well thought out, and almost fail-proof. He waited for when the servants were having their breakfast to execute his first move. It would be too risky simply sneaking into Carson's office now, he would have to create a distraction. Which was the first step, to head off to the kennel and release the hound, Isis. Should Lord Grantham's precious companion run away, the whole house would launch a rescue party and hunt down the lost animal.

So here he was, lifting the lock on the dog's cage. Isis simply stood up and stretched, yawning. She sat at his feet expecting to be petted. Matthew sighed, "Go, shoo." He whispered, trying to waver her away. When she only tilted her head in confusion, he grew frustrated. His plan was not to be foiled by a stupid dog.

Matthew grabbed Isis by the collar and dragged her along with him, through a wooded patch and to a small tool-shed at the far edge of the land. He pushed the dog inside, "Now, don't look at me that way." Isis was indifferent to her situation and still looked at Matthew with happiness in her eyes. "You'll be fine. Somebody will find you soon." He promised, even if he had to 'go looking' himself. The door had an iron latch that locked as soon as the door was closed. It seemed purely like an accident, the dog was to get lost whilst exploring, happen to find the shed ajar, and as soon as she steps inside it locks closed behind her.

He returned to the house just in time, "You're an early bird." Branson commented, walking down the stairs. With nobody to fuss over him like the others, Branson was usually the first down in the morning.

"Yes, I took a walk, I have a lot on my mind is all." He mentioned, covering for his slightly muddied boots.

"Anything I can help with?" Branson asked.

"No, no. It's nothing important. Thank you regardless." Matthew smiled.

"Good morning, both of you. It would seem that we're waiting on the ladies once again." Lord Grantham jested. He was happy to admit that he no longer felt as lonely having other males to share his dinner table. Living in a house full of women had its challenges, and despite how they came to be his relatives he was grateful.

"Some things never change." Branson laughed, as did Lord Grantham. Matthew remained sober, neither two men questioned the third. Instead, they made their way into the breakfast room, each taking a newspaper from the center of the table.

A few hours had passed. Lord Grantham had been sitting in the library reading a new book on Russian Imperialism when it dawned on him that a part of his soul had been missing. Isis who usually basked in the sunlight that shone through the window was not there. He put his book down, wondering whether he could trace seeing her at all this morning. He rang the bell and Carson appeared with a moment's notice. "Carson, would you mind checking on Isis, I haven't seen her this morning."

"Of course, My Lord." Carson agreed. He made his way down to the servant's hall. He took a step outside and to the kennels, to check on Isis himself. To his surprise, the dog was not there. It was odd, but he assumed that the stable boys must have taken the dog for a walk. On his journey, he asked several staff whether they had seen the dog until he finally reached the stables. Both boys were shoveling hay into a newly mucked stable. "I don't suppose that either of you has seen Isis about?" He pushed.

"No Mr Carson, not yet today I haven't." One replied. The other nodded in corroboration to the story.

"Very well." He replied before heading back towards the house. "How strange." He hummed to himself.

"Are you alright?" Mrs Hughes questioned, having seen the discomfort on Carson's face.

"It's the dog, I'm afraid she might have gone missing." He answered he sighed long and hard. He wished for one calm day, just one. Running this house was a task and a half, each day creating new ways to test his patience.

"You don't say." Mrs Hughes rolled her eyes, she too fed up. "Well, I'll have the hall boys searching the house. I wouldn't worry, we can find her." She said half-heartedly.

"The sooner the better." He countered.

Time passed, each of the hall boys checked the rooms and the maids checked the bedrooms. Under each bed, behind each cabinet, in the linen closets, even as far as the boiler room. The dog could not be found. Carson became worried, if the dog was not in the house then it had to be on the grounds, or if today was to get any worse, perhaps the dog had run into town.

"Listen here, all of you." Carson announced. "Anybody who isn't doing something fundamentally important, gather round." He began. Concerned faced crowded round him. "As some of you may have heard already, Isis has gone missing."

"We need you all to pitch in and help." Mrs Hughes contributed.

"A second search of the house will be conducted and the rest of you will be spread across the grounds. I will inform His Lordship of our efforts thus far, so everybody should start the search before I get back." Carson ordered.

"You heard the man!" She clapped her hands and suddenly everybody moved with purpose.

Anna turned to Thomas, "you stay here, there's plenty for you to do while we search." She put rationally.

"I'm no dewdropper, I've got to help," Thomas replied defensively. "After all His Lordship has done for me." He protested. Should he be the one to find the dog, it would be a great accomplishment one which would be recognised, and part of his debt paid off.

"I wouldn't feel comfortable, perhaps you should stay, where I know you're safe." Anna pleaded. "It won't be long before she's home safe." She attempted to reassure him.

Thomas said nothing, he was not going to be grounded and stuck at the house while others ran around meaningfully. He wasn't an invalid, he was perfectly able to walk, and run if he had to. Whether he had Anna's permission or not, he was going to help.

Carson approached the library, he hated delivering bad news. He approached sullenly, with a small cough he caught Lord Grantham's attention. "Ah, Carson, have you any news?" He asked, there was little hope in his voice.

"News?" Matthew asked. For he had been at work this morning and only just walked in. "Is there anything I should know about?" He reiterated.

"Nothing yet, My Lord. We are extending the search to cover the rest of the grounds. Rest assured; she will be found." He noted.

"That simply won't do. Carson, bring me my coat and walking boots, I will be joining the others." He said confidently.

"My Lord?" Carson became flustered. It was tough to mask a smile but for Matthew, from the sounds of things, his plan was working nicely. "You do not have to, My Lord-" His Lordship interrupted.

"Don't be ridiculous, please, she is my responsibility." Carson simply nodded his head, and immediately acted upon his orders. The two, suited and botted were headed out when they ran into Branson who strikingly seemed alarmed.

"What's going on?" He requested. Having only just returned from the town's tavern, he was not privy to the common worry.

"It's Isis. It would seem she's gone missing." Lord Grantham answered.

"That's awful, count me in as well," Branson said without a second thought. "Where have we checked already?"

"So far, just the house." Lord Grantham responded.

"I'll begin my search behind the house," He announced. "Let's reconvene in an hour." He suggested. After a mutual agreement, they went their separate ways. Each person took to the grounds in search of the beloved pet.

Thomas grabbed his coat and set out on his own path, shortly after the other service staff had made their departures. 'Isis' rang in the air, with everybody shouting her name. From the backdoor, he walked as far as he possibly could towards the far end of the land boundary. Truth be told, the journey had felt twice as long being so pregnant. With a human pressing on his organs and weighing him down, it turned into quite the effort.

"Isis!" He called out, panting slightly. "Isis," he called out again. Thomas stopped and listened, behind his own rapid breathing and the birds chirping, he could hear the faint sounds of ten small claws scratching against something in the distance.

He continued to call her name as he moved towards the sound, soon it became louder and soon crying was apparent. It was unmistakable, in a eureka moment he exhaled cheerfully, and a smile crept upon his lips. Surely enough he had found the dog. Thomas approached a small shed, at its side a window, a quick glance through and he spotted Isis, "there you are, you silly mutt." Isis became ecstatic, she jumped up to the window and barked. Finally, somebody had come to free her.

Thomas unhooked the latch and opened the door; Isis had somehow become trapped behind some equipment that had fallen in front of the door. He assumed that Isis must have knocked something over attempting to escape. As he opened the door, an unopened bucket of paint rolled forward, he nudged it out of the way. One hand tucked under his stomach he gracefully stepped over the remaining buckets on the floor. Some wooden slats had fallen and barricaded Isis in, whilst trying to pull one away the door closed behind him.

He stood straight, nose flared, "we're locked in, aren't we?" He asked, stepping back over the paint. He jiggled the door, "now you've gone and done it." He huffed sarcastically.


	13. Lost Dog Found

Evenin' -or morning- all! I've recently undergone some serious surgery, so there's been a little delay in me writing. I am feeling a lot better now and am reclaiming my writing mojo. I only have one more chapter pre-written after this one but I hope to be able to keep up, maybe create a writing schedule or something. Either way, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter Text

With the house empty, and the ladies at the Dowager's for tea, and the service all out searching for the dog, he could rest assured that Carson's office would be left unattended. Still, he crept around the service corridor like the fiend he was. Hiding behind every corner and tiptoeing around to avoid being caught by anybody. When he approached Carson's office door, he was pleasantly surprised to find it open. Perhaps in the kerfuffle, the old man had forgotten to lock up.

His luck had stopped there, the key hook next to the door was empty. He could have kicked something to vent his bubbling rage, but his mission meant leaving little evidence of his crime. He took a moment to think logically, Matthew surmised that there must be a spare key hidden somewhere. Matthew rummaged through cabinets, searched between bottles on shelves, and lastly in the drawers in Carson's desk. No such spare could be found. He threw himself into Carson's chair, agitated.

A heavy set of heels could be heard coming his way, in a fright he leaped from the chair and buried himself among a set of coats. The person on the other side of the door tapped lightly before trying the handle. Matthew held his breath, not wanting to make a sound. "That man." She sighed, disappointed with Carson's carelessness. Mrs Hughes strode in, keys-in-hand.

"Mrs Hughes!" Came a desperate voice from the hall. Mrs Hughes put the keys back onto a hook beside the door before turning back.

"Whatever now?" She answered, shutting the door behind her.

Matthew paused for a moment as the noise came further and further away. The venture had not been fruitless after all. He stuffed the keys into his pocket before cautiously making his exit. The corridor had been empty, but he narrowly avoided suspicion whilst walking towards the backdoor, claiming he was doing a thorough sweep of his own. Once the coast was clear he stepped out to find the rest of the hunt. It was clear that the entire house was still going barmy over this 'lost dog'. Should he be the first to 'find' Isis such a task would likely earn him brownie points.

Meanwhile, Thomas sat defeated on a tin of paint, waiting for his rescuer. For the first ten minutes, he had tried to run into the door, either dislodging the lock or perhaps taking the door from its hinges. With the confined space not being enough for a run-up, and the added weight in need of protection strapped to his front he quickly gave up. Instead, he'd shifted some of the barricades between him and Isis, she had been grateful enough to reward Thomas with a sloppy kiss. Every so often Isis would let out a small howl to alert any passers-by whenever she heard a twig snap or leaf rustle.

He had no way of knowing exactly how long he'd been trapped in the shed, but one thing was for sure, he was desperate for the bathroom and his child refused to sit still. Suddenly Isis began barking, louder, and more ferocious than before.

"Isis?" Came a familiar voice.

Thomas' hopes shot through the roof, "Branson?" He cried out.

Soon came hasty footsteps crunching their way through a path of dead leaves. "Thomas, is that you?" Branson asked from the other side. He began to jimmy the latch, opening the door. "Why are you stuck inside-" Branson stopped mid-sentence.

In all his glee, Thomas had forgotten that not all the family had been introduced to his new form, "the door," he coughed awkwardly, "It closed behind me, and..."

"It locked you in." Branson avoided the elephant in the room.

Thomas nodded, "We found Isis." He noted as the dog sat at Thomas' feet.

"His Lordship will be pleased." Branson commented, "we should go and tell the others."

"I need to," Thomas trailed off awkwardly. There was little chance of him making it back to the house before wetting himself. Branson turned away as Thomas took himself slightly further into the brush. Both were put-off and uneased.

Thomas re-joined Branson and Isis, "So…" Branson posited. "There's been whispers around the house as of late. If I'd known sooner, I would have paid you a visit."

"You don't have to say anything if this makes you uncomfortable," Thomas said bluntly.

"Not at all. Congratulations." Branson smiled. "You look better today than the last time I saw you." He joked. "I know I haven't been down in a while…"

"You're a blue blood now, you don't need to come and socialize with the rest of us," Thomas replied. "How's little Miss Sibyl?" He asked.

"Much better, I'd been meaning to give my regards, for looking out for Sibby." Thomas had noticed the nanny mistreating the youngest Crawley and subsequently set her up to fail. His sleuthing talents put towards something positive for a change.

"I would only hope that somebody do the same for me." The woman was vile from the off. Thomas knew that had the nanny not been a woman, he'd have thrown fists. He admired Her Lordship's restraint despite her obvious anger, for there was little chance he'd have let the woman go without a stern word or two, especially if it had been his own child. The new nanny was graceful and patient, somebody he had no qualms leaving his child with.

"In a heartbeat," Branson replied.

More voices could be heard in the near distance, and just along the horizon, were figures who were still hunting for the missing pet. As they approached, Isis shot off in a sprint, darting towards a group of two not so far ahead. Branson chased after the dog at a jogging pace, not wanting her to wander too far. It was only as he got closer that it realized Isis had run back to her owner and the two were now in a sweet embrace, Isis generously licking His Lordship under his chin.

"Just where did you end up?" He noted several splash marks of dried paint covering her fur.

"She'd gotten herself stuck in a shed at the edge of the garden," Branson replied.

"Nothing a thorough bathing won't clear. Thank you for bringing her back, I was beginning to worry." He clipped her lead to her collar and held on tightly to the reins.

"It was Thomas who found her." Thomas approached the scene slightly breathless.

"You don't say?" Thomas too had flecks of the same coloured paint staining his coat. "Thomas my good man," He extended a hand, Thomas accepted. "I cannot thank you enough." His Lordship replied earnestly.

"I owe you this at the very least." He smiled.

"Ah, there you are. I must have gotten lost-" Matthew walked, eyes to the ground as he climbed a small mound in the grass.

"No need to worry, Isis is safe." His Lordship greeted. The scene became tense, as their shared secret weighed down the air.

"Good news, I'm sure." Matthew grinned charmingly. "Mr Barrow, Mary has kept me informed, might I offer you my congratulations?" His Lordship observed the display, not sure whether his son-in-law was capable of such brazen deceit or whether he was being genuine. Thomas' gritted his teeth, jaw clenched tightly.

When Thomas' eyes became glassy, he took that moment to interrupt, "Yes, Mr Barrow here found Isis, so you can head back to the house and inform the others." He instructed.

"Of course," Matthew replied, heading away from the others. Matthew couldn't help but be concerned and paranoid as to why the mood changed so suddenly.

"Branson, would you mind giving us a moment in private?" His Lordship asked.

"Not at all, I'll help spread the word." Nothing could keep him lingering around any longer, not even the title to Downton itself.

"I apologise for leaving the house," Thomas began. At the time, he hadn't given it enough thought. All he could think of was proving himself, only to end up in a worse position than before.

"Please, you do not need to apologise." He sighed, "I wasn't aware of how much of the family knew until this afternoon. It's proved to be the worst kept secret. Not that we could shelter the others from this for too much longer."

Thomas unconsciously cradled his stomach, "the last thing I want is to be a nuisance."

"Spare no such negative thoughts, Barrow." Over the last few weeks, he'd seen Thomas go from an arrogant, and confident boy to somebody overly sorrowful. He pitied how difficult the transition must have been. "Carson tells me you still haven't moved into the lodge we talked about."

"In all honesty, M'Lord, I haven't got quite a lot of what I need yet." Whilst it wasn't his only excuse for his lack of apathy, it was the one pressing on his mind the most at the moment. If he dropped the baby today, a month from when it's expected, it would be housed in a dresser drawer.

"I trust I don't have to remind you of how pressed for time you are. I can put you in touch with a craftsman here in town to expedite things. It's always better to put money into the local economy than to buy from some catalogue."

"Thank you," He smiled.


	14. A Troubled House

It didn't take long for the house to return to normal. Isis was safe basking in the sunlight of the library window, whilst Lord Grantham read from a book, Lady Cora and her daughters had returned from lunch, and the staff were huddled around the common room table looking through pictures.

Anna and Bates had been married for three weeks already, and whilst their honeymoon was engulfed by household drama, they were happy. Their matrimonial home was set up and currently empty, and the married couple were sleeping alone once again. The two didn't mind, they were well rehearsed in personal sacrifice. However, when the delivery boy dropped off their wedding photos not moments ago, they couldn't help but take a selfish moment to flash them around to all their friends.

"Of course, you would look so beautiful on your wedding day," Mrs Patmore observed, staring at one of the photographs. "You could have been wearing a dustbin and still been radiant." She joked, envious of Anna's natural beauty.

Anna became bashful, "thank you." She replied.

"You two look so happy." Daisy lavished, thinking about how much of a stark contrast her own wedding had been. "This one is my favourite." She pulled out the group picture, there stood everybody close to the bride and groom. Their Downton family.

"What's this?" Mrs Hughes approached.

"We've just received our wedding photos," Anna announced.

"Oh my, these are excellent, the quality is superb." She admired the photographer's handy work. "It was such a wonderful day." She reminisced. "Aw, Anna, look at you." She inhaled in admiration when she finally flicked to the stunning picture of Anna in front of the church.

"It was a wonderful day, weren't it? I hate to admit it, but I might have enjoyed one drink too many." Mrs Patmore laughed. "It was a day for celebration after all." She defended herself.

"I think we all had a bit too much to drink, even Mr Carson was a tad merry." Anna recalled. Carson's cheeks turned a hot crimson when he drank, and an uncharacteristically bubbly personality emerged that shocked everybody.

Alfie and James glanced to each other before bursting at the seams. "Whatever you two did, I don't want to hear about it." Mrs Hughes glared. The boys continued to laugh.

"Those two chuckle heads managed to between them, drink three bottles of wine and wonder down to the lake. Being the only sober and responsible one out of the lot of you, I brought 'em back." Thomas boasted. "The two of them were stark naked just about to go for a swim." Anna gasped behind her hand, unsure whether she would be able to contain her laughter.

"You came to ruin our fun." James replied, cockily.

"This one here, could barely hold his head up, let alone swim." Thomas continued.

"Well, I don't remember the night in that much detail." James mumbled.

"I'd be surprised if you had." Thomas added. He would never forget that night, having seen the two drunkenly skipping away. Knowing they'd get into nothing good in that state, he went looking for them. He'd found James donning his birthday suit, and Alfie shirtless soon to follow suit. He coaxed them out of the water eventually, after threatening to come in and get them. He walked a whole meter into the lake before they both caved and splashed their way out. James miraculously managed to make himself presentable before Thomas lead them back. Both men could hardly walk, their adrenaline and alcohol high waring off. At some point along the beaten path, Thomas had both boy's semi draped over his shoulders. The entire way they insulted him and swore at him for being a bore. "Should have seen 'em." Thomas reiterated.

"You said you weren't going to tell anyone." Alfie argued.

"Well, I have." He smiled smugly.

"Don't you two worry, this stays between us, understood." Mrs Hughes promised. "I'd hate to think what, You-Know-Who would do if he knew."

"I would like to hope, you do not mean me?" Carson asked from the doorway.

"Of course not." She smiled. "Anna and Bates received their wedding photos today and we were just feeling nostalgic." She passed along the selection she held in her hand.

"Very nice." He glanced at the first few before placing them on top of the small pile hosted in the middle of the table. "Now, have you finished with the spare key-set?" Carson asked.

"I have, I placed the keys in the usual spot in your office." She declared.

"They aren't there now." Carson objected. He composed himself, trying to remain objective, "you might not have meant to misplace-"

"Oh, no. Your assertions are better directed elsewhere, but I'll be more than happy to help you look for them. They can't have wondered off too far." She led the way. The staff all exchanged looks of worry fearing this was not to be the last they'd hear of these missing keys.

The two searched, but no matter how much Mrs Hughes wanted to find them, she couldn't. She tutted, "you're right, heavens," a heavy sigh followed. "Not to worry, they'll be around somewhere. Can you remember where you've been today?" She suggested, mindful of Carson's fleeting memory.

"I can assure you; they were not on the hook for me to pick up and lose elsewhere." He responded proudly, his head bobbing with frustration.

"Don't you get your knickers in a bundle." She joked, trying to ease some of the tension. Judging by Carson's unyielding demeanour, he was far from ready to loosen his shoulders. "Look, if you insist, we can ask the others, but I highly doubt anyone among us is brazen enough to steal them." Any foreseeable benefits would be shadowed by the reproductions.

"A few names come to mind." He growled low.

The two dropped the issue for now promising to bring up the subject after the evening meal. That would give any potential thief, having watched the display in the kitchen, enough time to return the keys and save themselves from persecution. Until then, Carson would keep his suspicions to himself.

The staff made themselves busy all afternoon, wanting to avoid any and all reason for confrontation. At 4 Thomas finished by sweeping the servant's corridor, he couldn't help but curse as he completed the 'maid's' chores. At the same time said 'maid's' chores had him working up a sweat and resenting his awkwardly new framed body as it crumbled under such insignificant pressure. He returned to the common area hot and bothered. A perpetual state, he spent most of his life in at the moment. "Daisy, be a doll, fix me something to drink." He called across the room.

"Mrs Patmore made a jug of lemonade this morning, its proper good. Said the supplier gave her more than she ordered." She poured Thomas a tall glass, making sure to slip him a hefty lemon wedge. "I suppose it's probably healthy and all, for the baby, you know...just minus all that sugar." She smiled, passing him the glass. "Go on, try some."

Thomas' attention was occupied by a harsh kick to his bladder. He held the spot and let out a soft but uncomfortable groan. "Gis a minute, Daisy." He responded.

"Is it always painful like that? When the baby kicks, I mean." She asked curiously.

"Only recently." 'Ah, a simpler time' he thought to himself. "I's probably pretty cramped in here by now." He explained, feeling more hippo than human. "They only get worse you know." His message home wasn't well received as the kid inside revolted once more.

"Don't think me forward or nothing, but...can I feel?" Thomas looked up and through the mop of bangs that hung just below his brow. He was somewhat startled by the question. "You can say no if you're want, I don't mind."

"Daisy, I..." He trailed off. Thomas was a private person, trained to be so closed off to survive, the very last thing he would ever think would happen was to share this experience with another person. The shire innocence and delight on Daisy's face was enough today, to melt the ice walls that encased Thomas' heart. "If you must." He added shortly, trying to refrain from any and all displays of vulnerability. Daisy's body vibrated on the spot, excited.

Thomas took her by the hand and placed it over the last spot that saw action. The two sat in near silence as they anticipated a kick that would be arriving any moment. As the baby moved, Thomas guided her hand along his bump until..."Oh! I felt that one!" She cheered. "And again." Glee spread across her face.

"He's a sucker for a pretty face." Thomas replied smoothly.

In all her innocence, Daisy blushed. "It would be fun to have a baby running around down here." She cooed.

"Running around? Down here?" He scoffed. "The Abbey isn't exactly the safest of places. Just look at Isis, managed to get herself trapped in a shed across the way." He explained. Children, in the blink of an eye, can get up to the darndest of things.

"His Lordship loves that dog just the same." Daisy contended. "Little ones are supposed to get up to mischief every now and then, it's natural."

A voice cut through the conversation from the doorway, "what do we have here?" Mrs Patmore strode in. "Finished already?" She asked sarcastically, taking note that Thomas was relaxed enough to enjoy her lemonade. She threw down a heavy leg of lamb, "Don't suppose you could give us a hand dicing that thing?" She queried. "You're a strong lad." Thomas hadn't time to react before being thrown an apron. "Here, you needn't even leave your seat."

"Seeing as you asked so nicely." He retaliated, reaching over the counter to fetch a knife. "All of it?"

"Half. We'll stick the rest in that infernal _refrigerator_," She exaggerated, losing her common-as-muck accent in favour for something proper. Still wildly uncomfortable with technological change fueled by electricity, she hated to admit that this particular invention was a god-send. "I'll do double the vegetables and spuds and we'll have a shepherd's pie for supper." Nothing quite as fancy as the dinner planned for upstairs but no bellies were ever left empty.

"I'll get started on the carrots." Daisy added.

"It won't hurt for you to pick up a thing or two for when you're living on your own. You've got to know how to feed yourself and the little one once it's older." Mrs Patmore announced. "There's a few things Daisy and I can show you, if you like? Nothing too fancy, mind you." Thomas hadn't thought about such details as of yet. From being raised with a mother in the kitchen to Mrs Patmore's cooking, he never had to fend for himself.

"They sell that mass-produced stuff at the store now, Mrs Patmore." Daisy informed.

"That nonsense? It's all a con if you ask me. It'll cost you less to prepare it yourself. That way you'll know exactly what it's made from." Obviously passionate about the issue, she became flustered and red-faced.

"I'll figure it out when the time comes." Thomas spoke up. "His Lordship already promised that the nanny look after the kid during the day. I haven't got all that much to fret over."

"How you blagged that I'll never know...not that it matters, your little one is going to receive the best care money can buy." She scoffed.

"And I get to keep my job." Thomas reminded her. Without the support of a nanny, he would have to leave Downton and struggle to balance employment and childcare. Being a gay single father, his odds were not favourable.

Mrs Patmore knew she'd put her foot in her mouth. She felt embarrassed, not meaning for her comments to sound so resentful. While she had been distracted by his privilege, she'd overlooked how destitute his life would be had they been taken away. "Good thing that old bag is gone, thanks to you." She drew away from her mistakes, being far too stubborn a person to readily apologise. "A wicked one her."

"Must have put me in their good graces." He surmised. There was little else that he could attribute to their kindness.

The evening passed by pretty quickly, even with the looming atmosphere. Dinner was now over and Thomas felt as though his stomach had grown to twice its size, stuffed with carbs. It would seem his appetite was bigger than the allotted space he had left. His added weight was not the only uncomfortable happening around the table tonight. Mrs Hughes and Carson's incessant to-and-fro eye contact did not go unnoticed. The pair had perfected the art of nonverbal communication, she using it to yell at her college to keep his owes under-hat and him pushing back for his own way.

So soon as the plates were taken away, Carson rose to his feet and cleared his throat. Mrs Hughes had to refrain from rolling her eyes, but fought through the urge to protest. Carson had the floor, finally, "a moment of silence, please." Carson waited until all murmuring had ceased and all eyes were watching intently. "As much as it pains me to have to make these announcements, it appears I must. A pair of keys have been _misplaced_," he emphasised. "Should anybody happen to _find_ them, they ought to be returned immediately." Carson didn't have to force an ultimatum; the staff were all aware of Carson's dedication.

Only, none among them were guilty. Yet, all were fearful.


	15. Worst Kept Secret

Hi everyone! Thank you for hanging in there with this one. I lost my file with the next few chapters, so I'm trying my hardest to push through some new content, but my motivation has taken a hit. Whilst I am optimistic that I'll finish this fic, please continue to be patient.

Chapter Text

Shifty eyes glanced between one another accusatorially, everyone hoping someone among them would confess before things became any worse. The last thing anybody wanted was for Carson to intrude into their personal space, checking their drawers and under their beds. Some kept foodstuffs and materials that would likely be confiscated if found, hence the need to keep them hidden. The night rolled by painfully slowly until lights out. Fate would decide the outcome of the next few hours.

Thomas was understandably on-edge. His track record was stacked against him and made him the obvious target. Carson's patience with him was at an all-time low and would love to be able to use this as ammunition. The only drawback being that it wasn't him. His future at the house was fragile and there was no reason to rock the boat even further. Not that he needed the keys, what would he gain from having them? It was highly likely that his room, above all the others, would be checked first. He wasn't sure whether that fact made him feel angry, victimised, or fearful.

While all the house was silent, Thomas was not the only one stirring. Matthew was also up and out of bed, leaving Lady Mary to snooze alone. He made his way through the house and downstairs, a hand clenched around the keys in his pocket, holding them still as to not give away his position. It was a long way down, and trying to remain undetected was something he wasn't rehearsed in quite yet.

It was near impossible for remaining keys on the set not to clank together as he searched for the right one. On a set of nearly twelve keys, he was relatively lucky finding the right one by the fourth attempt.

Despite the late hour, the rattling had been enough to perk the ears of Mr Bates who had been purposefully awake on look-out. At the smallest of sounds he would run to peer through his peeper, if anything had been amiss Bates would be the first to know. The last few times he'd appeared at the door had been nothing more than creaks in an old house, this was different, purposeful. He approached the door half knowing what he might find on the other side.

There he was, in his robe and slippers, Matthew Crawley, slinking around in the dead of night. What was he to do? He and Anna hadn't come up with a plan had either of them caught the perpetrator in the act. Could he really, so brazenly, approach Master Crawley and question his actions without any repercussion? He had little time to think as Matthew left his sight, and with a sharp knock at Thomas's door, he opened his own.

The only thing he could think to do was swing his head, looking around as though he thought the knock was tapped on his own door. Looking right he caught Matthew' eye, the man looking like a deer in headlights, caught in the act. "Master Crawley. I'm sorry, I didn't expect to see you at this late hour. Young Mr Barrow is likely to be asleep. Is there any way that I might be of assistance?" Bates asked.

"Err-" He cleared his throat. "No. Its nothing that can't wait until morning." Matthew announced.

"It's no bother." Bates reiterated, making Matthew mightily uncomfortable.

"Thank you, Mr Bates...but I'll seek Mr..." Such formalities felt out of sorts given their personal relationship, "-Barrow's help another time." The entire interaction had left his heart racing with anxiety. He'd been caught, by Mr Bates, goody-goody and none other than His Lordship's valet. His behaviour had been suspect and his reason for being where he was had been flimsy. Matthew wasn't quite sure what tomorrow morning would look like.

Thomas had his ear to the door but hadn't the nerve to answer. What's worse, no matter how much he hated Matthew, their unborn child thrived from the sound of his voice. Once the conversation had dispersed, Thomas received another knock at his door followed by a soft voice, "Thomas might you really be asleep?" After a lengthy pause, he assumed Thomas fortunately nestled up in bed.

After Bates' door clicked closed he could finally relax. Bates moving back in had been a happy coincidence.

The morning rolled around and Bates was eager to confess to his wife exactly what had gone on. He caught her on her way to breakfast, taking her hand as she walked by. He knew it to be inappropriate, but in the empty hallway, he stole a kiss from his wife.

She smiled bashfully, having missed her husband. "Did you sleep well?"

"Aside from wishing you were with me," He replied charmingly. "Something happened last night, after dark." Bates began. Anna's happy face sunk into apprehension. "I managed to intercept but I don't think it'll be enough. He may try again. What do you suggest we do?"

"How did he get through the doors?" Anna contemplated. "They were locked, right?"

"It seems as though we might have found our key thief." Bates hated the thought, somebody as polished and outwardly appeasing could resort to petty theft as a means to solve his problems. That Matthew might go above and beyond to assault anybody was perhaps a small glimmer of his true nature.

"Let's not speculate, we don't know for sure that Master Crawley took the keys. Maybe Carson will find them during his search?" The two could be hopeful but nothing was certain.

"If he doesn't? What then? Would either of us have the courage to tell?" Bates paused, "to risk any consequence?"

Anna was quiet. She had promised not to tell, and she wanted to respect his wishes, but at what cost? A moral dilemma, essentially two ugly heads of the same coin. She was again conflicted.

After an intense breakfast, the footmen they laid the table, serviced the family and Thomas pressed the newspaper while Carson conducted his searches. Room to room, looking under mattresses, under beds, in drawers and wardrobes. No crevice was left unchecked. His frustration grew with each door, the searches were turning up empty, not even sourcing contraband like food or lewd materials. James' and Alfred's rooms were immaculate, too immaculate for men their age. Carson suspected that anyone with a secret would have squirreled it deep away by now.

He went through Thomas' room with a fine-toothed comb expecting to find the keys. Carson gathered his dignity before squatting on the floor. He pulled out an old suitcase, and began digging. It was full of baby things that Thomas had obviously wanted to keep private. Carson's disregard for Thomas' personal property prompted Mrs Hughes to speak out. "Is this entirely necessary?" She watched Carson pick things up and shake them hoping something would drop out. "This is going too far." Mrs Hughes took the garment from Carson, "what possible reason would Thomas have for stealing the keys?"

"I do not trust him, and I'm quite surprised to see that you do." Carson retaliated.

"He's not done anything to be unworthy of my trust." She began, "It seems as though you want the boy to be guilty." Mrs Hughes accused. "I know that you don't well approve of how Thomas is living his life, but he does not deserve this, and certainly not his unborn child."  
"I-I-" he stuttered. "I was simply looking." Carson was well aware of how careless he had been rummaging through Thomas' things, but did not share Mrs Hughes' moral point of view.  
"If I must say, your search here is over." Carson groaned uncomfortably. It wasn't often that Mrs Hughes spoke to him like this, it wasn't appreciated.  
Upstairs the family sat around the table eating their breakfast. Lord Grantham read the paper at the head of the table while his family chat among themselves. Matthew took a warm sip of tea before exhaling; "Isis looks rather pleased with herself." He observed. Isis was hovering around the table watching crumbs fall to the floor.

Lord Grantham put his paper away, "Indeed." Isis wasn't usually allowed in the dining room, but today had been an exception. "She's barely wanted to leave my side since Thomas found her yesterday." He patted her on the head. Isis had gone to bed with him and woken him up particularly early this morning, in fact he quite enjoyed the attention.

"It was particularly good to see Thomas doing so well, particularly after the last time I saw him." Matthew added. "Healthy even."  
"Yes, yet it was." His Lordship snapped. "So, Mary-" he began, in an effort to deter the subject.

"Is he? Whatever was the matter in the end? It was quite frightening for a moment there." Edith asked, being the only person around the table and likely the house who was yet to be informed.

"Nothing. Nothing is wrong with him." Mary couldn't help but gaze over the rim of her cup, her eyes glancing incitefully at her father. He glared in response, lifting his paper to cover his face once again. A physical barrier between him and his daughter's inquisitive mind.

"He's fine darling, don't you worry about it." Her Ladyship took her daughter's hand and smiled.

"There's something, isn't there? Why am I always the last to know?" Lady Edith sighed heavily. "It's obvious that there's something you are all keeping from me. What is it? There's nothing that Mary can know which I can't."

"Oh Robert, it seems all of us here know what's going on, it's not fair for us to keep Edith in the dark like this." Their mother hummed compassionately.  
"I knew it. Am I alone not allowed to know this family secret?" Lady Edith was frustrated and a little distraught.

Robert once again put down his paper and released a large sigh. All he wanted to do was have a quiet morning free of drama, but it seems drama had chased him down, interrupting what should have been a relaxed breakfast. "You were not left out maliciously I can assure you. I am only now realising that this secret is in fact so poorly hidden as to not actually be considered a secret anymore. You were likely to find out on your own soon enough, so I might as well tell you."

"Please." Lady Edith pleaded.

"Mr Barrow is with child. Whilst I do not believe this to be proper conversation to be had over breakfast," He paused, thinking about how to phrase his next words delicately given present company, "before you come to any assumptions as to his character, I'll let you know that this child is one to be born out of violence."  
"What a poor thing. Is there any way we can help? Perhaps find who did it and lock them away..." The pregnancy landed extraordinarily well, glossed over even. Instead, Edith chose to be angry about the right part of her father's story. "I'd hate to think whoever committed such a vile act is still-"

Lord Grantham interrupted his daughter, "This is to remain a secret, for Mr Barrow's safety. We have offered him somewhere to stay, childcare and job security. The last thing I would like to see is Mr Barrow on the street."

"It's the least we can do." Her Ladyship said in support of her husband. "I think we're all in agreement."

"The one thing I ask of each of you is to keep this from your grandmother. She is the last person who ought to find out. She would certainly not see it the way we do."


End file.
